Fading to Darkness
by TallTalesInk
Summary: Through the frigid air, their souls are blown together, as 24 hearts thrum to one beat. Yet as the white snow turns red, they fall, fall away. Until every last one of them fades gently into the darkness.
1. Prologue

Death's POV

* * *

It's not often that I tell stories. Most of the good ones have already been told in one way or another. But I feel that this one is worth hearing. You see there comes a point in history, where all those who remember have died. Tales long since forgotten by the remaining population rest in the graves of those who were present, never to be heard again by the living. That is where I come in.

It is my job and resposibility to collect souls once their bodies have checked out. I meet everyone at some point or another. Most of the dead do not speak to me. They are bitter about their ends, and yearn to return to their past life. However, on occasion I come across a pearl in an ocean of rocks. These few welcome me. They walk beside me as my equal through the void to the other, final realm. It is on these rare occasions that I might get the privilages of hearing the story of their lives.

It is one of these specific occasions that I am going to speak about. It happened about a year ago. I walked into an arena that I had visited too many times already, and greeted a dead child at their corpse. I already was aware of the occasion, of course. Once a year every year, humans put their children into an arean to slaughter each other. They call it entertaiment. I call it a waste.

It is always haunting going into the arena. The atmosphere there is always tainted with things that I would rather not talk about. Even the humans sense it- the presence of something wrong and evil. Of course they are the ones who put it there, as their species is almost always the source of such things. The souls that I usualy pick up from these arenas are never whole.

Every single one of them welcomes me, but not in the conventional way. While the old and wise see me as a friend who will take me to old loved ones, those who come out of the arena see me as an escape. To them I am the end of their torchure, the only way out of their misery. If I arrive even seconds late, I will find them laying on the ground staring hollowly at their own blood. They have the expression of a veteran who had died in combat. The slump of one who had commited suicide, because they couldn't deal with their own lives. When they turn and see me, understanding registering in their guts, they do not feel joy, or even acceptance. I am a bitter relief to the exhausted. A guarentee of a final era of infinate sleep.

For the most part, these dead will not be forgotten. Their families will remember, as will the victor. Once every now and then there will be a re-run on the television that a few odd people might actually watch, and of course in the years to come there will be flashbacks of different highlights of a particular year. The entire nation will never forget the pain each tribute suffered.

This year was different though. Somehow, it has already begun to fade from the memories of the people. Alas, perhaps even the capitol citizens have been disturbed by the events that occurred in the stadium. Or perhaps it is the capitols doing. It wouldn't be the first time they made the Districts forget in the interest of order and control. You know that things are never good when shortly after the games conclude I have to make a visit to the head game maker.

So in the years to come the people of Panem will forget. The twenty-three tributes who died in that arena will fade into oblivion, the knowledge that there was in fact a 64th Hunger Games will be the only sign that they ever existed.

I know they existed though. I have heard their stories first hand, from the people who suffered the most because of this entire ordeal. You see, the child I mentioned earlier, they were one of the first to die. They told me of their past, of the hardships they had faced, and even I was appalled. I made it my duty that day to actually make an effort to hear from the others that were soon to follow in this one's footsteps. So that's what I did.

For the days and weeks to follow I questioned each of the fallen. I learned about their families, their friends, their hopes, their wants, their dreams. And I did something that I should never ever do. I felt it, in my gut, the injustice of their deaths. I cared for these souls that I ushered to the after life. It is never a little thing to die. Take it from someone who knows, life is precious.

So I made a promise, to retell their stories, as obviously no one else will. And then maybe, one day, these so called tributes, will return to their rightful place in history's memory.

* * *

**A/N**

**The blog is at: fadingtodarknesshg .blogspot .com**


	2. Head Gamemaker Ajax Turner

I suppose I'll start my story with the game maker, because that is the logical beginning. He is after all the man who created this arena, and in turn can be credited for many of the atrocities that occurred during the games. I've already told you that he died shortly after the victor was crowned, and believe me, that was no accident.

I found his body in one of the secret tunnels far beneath the capitol. I won't go into too much detail with the condition of his corpse. To put it mildly, it wasn't pretty. In life, however, he was a wiry man. His bony limbs were stretched at an awkwardly long length. He often had to hunch over when walking through doors. His face itself wasn't all that different from those of the gaunt starving children across the district. Although, the way his skin clung to his bones was entirely natural, unlike his peers in say District Eight. His hair was a thin washed out brown, and it sat in tight perky curls on top of his head the way a rotund balloon might sit on top of a counter. I personally think he got it permed weekly.

Now this head game maker didn't set out to run the Hunger Games. Prior to his appointment of Head Game maker, he had been in charge of overseeing the television streaming to the districts. He must have gotten the job around the 56th Hunger Games because he was one of the veteran staff members. It wasn't the most exciting job. Most of the time all he did was sit in a control room flicking switches to air footage from all the different cameras, but he took the job seriously. After all, as long as everything went off flawlessly he would be invited to all of the best parties, have connections with all the right people, and of course he could always brag about being a part of the most popular show of the year.

You can imagine that when President Snow showed up at his doorstep a month after the 63rd games had concluded, he was pretty surprised. In fact, upon seeing the president, the coffee cup he was holding dropped right out of his hands, spilling all over the brand new welcome mat he had bought for his apartment.

"Hello Ajax," the president smiled glancing down at his feet, which luckily had dodged most of the spilled liquid. Fortunately, the cup was made out of plastic, so there was no broken glass. That would have been a complete disaster. "I thought I might pop in for a visit."

It took poor Ajax a solid thirty seconds to regain his footing. "I- I wasn't expecting you sir," he said holding the door open to let his president inside. Snow strolled into the apartment as if he had been there before, taking off his coat and placing it on the wooden rack in the corner, and brushing off his shoes on the rug. Meanwhile Ajax hurriedly grabbed the coffee mug off the ground, leaving the rest of the mess for later, and started fidgeting with his cloths.

President Snow had come dressed up in a fancy suit and tie, and Ajax, who was just wearing slacks and a white undershirt, felt very under dressed. "Here come into the living room," he said leading Snow through the house into a small room with a modern white sofa and a television in it. A coffee table sat beside the coach, old newspapers strewn across the surface, several with photos of the capitol's latest victor plastered across the front. Ajax cursed himself on the inside for leaving the place so messy.

"Do you want some coffee or tea, sir?" he asked nervously. Just because he wasn't prepared for this visit didn't mean he had to forget his manners.

"Tea please," Snow responded, as he took a seat on the coach. Although Ajax was doubtlessly oblivious to it, the president had an amused glint in his eyes as he watched the man scurry.

Ajax got the tea to the president in record time, fumbling a little with the cup as he poked at the buttons on his hot beverage maker. Snow smiled to himself as Ajax smoothed his white undershirt down before sitting.

"May I ask why you've graced me with your company sir?" Ajax inquired anxiously. The lanky man had many talents, and chiefly among them was his finesse with words. Or as I like to say, his ability to suck up. He would not be a man who others would rally under based on what he preached, but after an hour-long conversation, you'd be hard pressed to say you didn't like him.

"Of course," Snow said sipping his tea. "I'm assuming that you knew Mr. Pollock well. Am I correct?" Ajax nodded. Of course he did. Lucius Pollock was the Head Gamemaker for the past four years. Everyone who worked for the games had come in contact with him at some point or another.

"He's decided to take an early retirement. He had served the games for a long time. It was time for him to move on," Snow went on. The president's voice was relaxed, but Ajax knew better than to take the words for their surface meaning. He had personally asked Lucius if he planned on returning next year just the other week, and the man had responded merrily in the affirmative. There was no way he simply decided to retire.

Ajax felt his stomach churn. No Lucius wouldn't have decided to retire by choice, but he may not have had one. There isn't a living soul who would dare whisper the words aloud, but they all knew the risks that came with the job. A man by the name of Fernando once actually went through the old records and created a statistic for it. About 32% of all Head Gamemakers won't leave the job with their lives. Fernando disappeared shortly after he spread that rumor around the office.

Mentally reliving the past games over in his head, Ajax wondered what had gone so wrong. A boy from District One by the name of Ritz had won. The entire games had gone over exceptionally well. The two tributes from District Five had known each other from home, and came in bitter enemies. They both got to the final three and ended up getting into a four-hour long fight to the death which ended when Ritz showed up killing both of them with one throw of his spear. The capitol had loved it, and the hatred between the other two tributes had put the District Five in its place. It couldn't have gone better for Snow.

Then he realized what it was. Another pair, this time from District Eight had teamed up, and were walking around in the woods talking of revolt. Of course, the two died shortly there after due to a misfortunate earthquake that sent them both off a cliff, and none of the footage ever made it onto the screen, so the situation had been handled. The rest of the world was completely ignorant to the conversation. Ajax himself had been sure of that being that he had been the one keeping the cameras looking everywhere except on the two tributes.

Snow's mouth twitched slightly into a not-so-friendly smile. "It is the head game maker's job to make sure that there is order in the games, Ajax," Snow said bluntly, dropping the formalities and speaking plainly. "Would you consider that conversation conducive to order?"

"No sir," Ajax agreed. "But it never aired, and the two tributes didn't even make it through the first day. I believe that Mr. Pollock handled the situation well. Or am I being too bold?"

"So he did. He contained the problem, so that nothing could become of it. It shouldn't have existed in the first place though. There are ways to make sure that events like these never take place. We have our tributes under constant surveillance, to be sure that none show any symptoms of... bad character. It is part of Mr. Pollock's job to notice it during the pre-game ceremonies. This isn't the first time he has failed to pick up things in his observations. Do you remember his first year? I believe you covered up a mess for him then too?" Snow said, placing his now empty cup of tea on the coffee table.

Ajax simply nodded. He remembered that issue too, when a girl from District Eleven went insane and started screaming obscenities at the capitol, cursing the games. He had stopped rolling the sound from the arena that year, so no one could hear her as Lucius triggered a sudden mudslide that would kill her. He wanted to protest again, defending his former boss even further, but that action seemed out of place. The decision had clearly already been made, and he was no authority to challenge the President of Panem. Anyway, he knew that Snow must have a point in saying all of this. There was some purpose behind this house call. Ajax already had a feeling about what it was. He hoped desperately that he was wrong.

"I've been looking over resumes for Mr. Pollock's replacement. I like hand picking my head game makers," Snow said licking his lips. "There are several good candidates, people who have worked more closely to Mr. Pollock, and know his job better; however, none of them have too much common sense. Has anyone ever told you that these little outbursts are... anti-climatic, or have you just always known?"

"I have always been a fan of the game, sir. I just assumed that our citizens wouldn't like being insulted by teenagers on live television," Ajax said with a charming joking smile. The president returned the gesture, looking quite pleased with the other man's answer. Ajax immediately regretted the words. They were honest, but he didn't want the job. Under no circumstances should he be proving to the president that the man's intuitions about him were correct. He had made it so long in his current position, being promoted could be the end of him. He never wanted such a big responsibility resting on his shoulders.

Of course, by this time, it was too late. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would be this years head game keeper Ajax. I need someone that I can trust running the controls," Snow finally said, throwing the elephant out of the room with both arms.

Ajax opened his mouth, trying to find words. He was not prepared to be dealing with this. If he was on his normal schedule, he'd be putting on his bright green lizard scale suit so he could go out and have some mindless chatter with somebody at the park. He'd be talking about the weather, the latest gossip, or about fashion, but not about the Hunger Games, and not about taking on the biggest responsibility in the capitol- next to the presidency of course. Finally though, the morning coffee he was sipping earlier seemed to penetrate his mind, as he managed a meager- "But sir, I couldn't possibly... I'm just a camera man really, no head game maker."

"I'm sure you can learn. It would be a great duty to your country," Snow said brushing off his pitiful attempt at denying the position. Ajax got the message of course, Snow had already made up his mind. He was going to be head game maker whether he liked it or not. There would be no refusing this "offer".

"Yes a great honor sir," Ajax mumbled compliantly.

"Very good. I'm sure you know that the planning period will begin very soon. I'll expect you to begin working again in two weeks," Snow said standing up. "It's been nice to meet you Head Gamemaker Turner. I do hope that you find success in your new post."

Ajax took the President's tea from him, and helped him get his coat before waving the man good-bye at the front door. He couldn't help feeling a sense of dull shock sweep over him as he watched his President go. What had just happened? This morning he woke up thinking about the newest party he would be attending. Now he was Head Gamemaker Turner. At first all he could comprehend was an uneasy nervousness that was beginning to plague his stomach. Lucius Pollock had truly been lucky to walk away from this job with his life. Ajax had never really been all that lucky. He felt his stomach do a flip- he was not ready for Death yet.

Then the President's parting words echoed in his head. What had he called him? Head Gamemaker Turner. Well, Ajax liked the sound of that. He pictured himself walking around the control room in a pristine suit, being in command of everything and everyone. In his mind's eye he saw his little golden badge pinned tastefully on his right breast. Head Gamemaker Ajax Turner, it would read. Indeed, he liked that very much.

Ajax walked numbly up the stairs into his bedroom and proceeded to finish getting dressed. He took extra time brushing his hair, and fixing up his suit. He even paused to polish his shoes quickly before walking out the door, on his way to the local park. He was an important man now, with an important job, and he was going to look the part. This upcoming Hunger Games was going to go off without a hitch, there was no other option. Ajax Turner was going to create something memorable, that would go down in history through the excited whispers of his peers. By the end of the year, he would no longer be the one who was sucking up. No everyone else would go out of their way to impress him. Yes, Ajax was going to make this Hunger Games his year; the ideas were already buzzing around in his head like a nest of excited bees, all wanting to be the first one to sting.

Unintentionally he quickened his pace, walking a bit faster to the park. He would have the rest of the year to plan for the games, but right now he would spend his time telling every person he could just how important he had become.

* * *

**A/N: Just a heads up, I'm writeing the reapings in random order. Any who, I hope you like this chapter.**


	3. District 11: For Them, Not Me

Oatis Hanes, 18, District 11

* * *

The sun began to creep it's way over the horizon, as soft pinks and purple-blues crawled upwards, blotting out the bright twinkles of morning stars. Gentle rays of golden light caressed the damp surface of the earth. Under the great golden orb's watchful eye, a lone worker toiled in the vast barren field.

Keeping in an easy rhythm, the worker raised his burdensome forked tool, plunging it into the dirt, and churning the soil into loose clumps so fluffy a child might mistake it for some sort of brown cotton candy. Sweat accumulated on the worker's brow, running in fat drops down his wide nose before dropping to the earth. His entire shirt was soaked, the fabric sticking to his back every time he moved. He had been working for hours, doing all he could to pull in a few extra cents for the day.

As the sun started to inch up further, the gentle rays grew stronger bearing down in harsh beams down onto the worker. Finally, with a mighty huff he drove his tool into the ground for a final time, and surveyed his surroundings carefully. He had made surprisingly good progress, covering the length of the field maybe twice in the few hours he had been out there. If the overseer was in a good mood today, this might be worth an entire three pence. Maybe they would be having some bread with dinner that night after all.

Carefully watching his step, as not to smash down any of the newly tilled dirt, the worker made his way back towards civilization. After passing three lengthy fields, some with a few scattered men and women toiling away in the centers, he came upon a small wooden shack with a glassless window cut out in the front.

A scrawny man lounged in a chair in the little shack, his feet resting on the window sill. Upon seeing the worker approaching, a defined scowl cut into his features. "Day's just beginning Hanes. Where do you think you're going?" he accused harshly.

"The reaping sir," the worker responded wearily as he handed the man his iron tool.

"Since when has your name been in the ball?" the man spat back, raising a thick wiry eyebrow.

"For six years now sir, I'm eighteen."

Shakily the man behind the counter rose to his feet, taking the tool from the worker and throwing it into a back closet. With a quaking hand he reached for the precious rusted metal box.

"Don't be making wise cracks boy. No body likes a wiser," he said.

"I didn't mean it as a wise crack sir," the worker responded looking at his feet. The faint hope that had been growing in his chest quickly spattered out. If there was one thing Oatis Hanes knew, it was how to read the overseer.

"Sure you didn't," the man said narrowing his eyes. Oatis' heart fell as the man reached towards the box without asking him how much work he did. The man pulled out two dirty clumps of grey metal and threw them Oatis' broad chest. He caught them with a crestfallen expression. Two quartz, not even enough to buy the stale burnt rejects that the baker usually ends of throwing away.

"But I did two rows today sir," Oatis said his voice very quiet. The man's eyes darted up to his face, a vicious expression cutting into the folds of his cheeks.

"Did I ask you how much you did?" he spat.

"No sir," Oatis responded. He wanted nothing more than to argue back, but reluctantly he held himself back. Disappointment raked across his insides. The night of the reaping was usually his one chance every year to put something special on the dinner table. Usually he wouldn't even be home early enough to actually eat dinner with his girls. Poor little Carmel was going to be disappointed that she wasn't going to get to taste the pear he had promised her.

With a sigh, Oatis jammed his hands into his pockets and started the long walk home. He would have to hurry if he wanted to make it back in time to clean himself up before the reaping.

* * *

Ivy Willosen, 17, District 11

* * *

Several miles away from the field where Oatis was finishing up his daily toils, was a dungy run down building with a thin canvas for a roof, and a curtain for a door. One hundred years ago, if a lone traveler passed this little slum, he would have taken it as a decaying relic, long since abandoned. However, it was not abandoned. In fact, it seemed to be very much alive. Even from a few blocks away, the joyful shrieks of little children could be heard.

Inside a little girl squealed, "Carrieta look at my dress, it's purty."

A middle aged woman shot the little girl a sweet, but distracted smile. "Yes honey, it's very pretty," she mumbled. In her arms she forcibly slipped a faded white t-shirt over a young boy's head. The boy, however, wasn't all that happy at the prospect of being clothed, and he struggled hard against the woman's attempts.

The little girl crossed her arms ready to scold the woman for not showing enough interest when she was suddenly swept off her feet. "You look so pretty, when all the people in the capitol see you, their mouths are going to drop open."

The little girl squirmed around delighted, looking to see who her captor was. "Ivy!" she cried happily throwing her arms around a teenage girl's neck.

The middle-aged woman, Carrieta, breathed a sweet sigh of relief upon seeing the frizzy haired girl. "Thank god you're here," she said quietly, releasing the now fully clothed boy to return to his friends.

"I wouldn't leave you here all alone, not today," Ivy smiled putting the little girl back onto the ground. Carrieta sighed as the two watched the thirty-two youngsters run around in the open room. Piles of cloth lay strewn on the floor in the corners, remnants that the children hadn't yet made their beds yet. But neither Ivy, nor Carrieta were going to force the kids to do chores today. They were both too busy worrying about them.

"Have any of them asked what's going on yet," Ivy asked gravely, in a quiet voice, so that none of the children could hear.

"Pepper asked where all of the tributes went after the games ended," Carrieta mumbled in response. Ivy's deep brown eyes rested on the ground sullenly as she thought of the innocent little boy. A year or two more, and he would be old enough to understand everything. "I told him they went to the same place his mama and papa were."

Ivy felt her heart go out to the boy. It wasn't right the turmoil these kids have gone through, and at such a young age. She supposed it came with the territory. There was no such thing as an unscarred orphan. She would know; she was one.

Carrieta sighed walking over to Ivy and futzing over with the girl's hair because that was what the woman did. "Silver let you go early then? I wasn't expecting you for another twenty minutes," she said.

Ivy shook her head, her nose scrunching in disgust at the mention her employer. "She had to go to work early, all the peacekeepers have to with the games and everything, and so I just left. She doesn't own me," she said.

Carrieta shot the girl a bitter smile. "Don't talk that way about her," she chastised softly. "You owe her too much to say things like that."

Ivy didn't respond. It was true after all. She owed that horrible woman her life, even if she didn't want to admit it. When she was three the woman found her alone in the fields, and took her in as a house maid. If she hadn't found her, Ivy probably would have ended up either dead or here in this very orphanage, starving for even a bite of food. Not that she was all that better off the way things were. Her sunken eyes, jutting bones, and sickeningly thin frame were all testimonies to how poorly Silver fed her. All the same, the woman offered her a roof over her head, one that wasn't made of a tarp like the one here, and for that she would forever be in debt. Just the thought of it was disgusting.

"Ivy," one of the orphan's called rushing over towards the girl. Ivy looked up to see a petite malnourished girl skipping over, her curls bouncing with each step she took

"Hi Beana," Ivy smiled tapping the girl on the nose. Beana was one of the older kids in the orphanage, at the ripe age of twelve. Most older kids get hired out somewhere by the time they reached her age and left to become street sweepers or maids like Ivy. Usually it was crap labor that they got, and many ended up dying from starvation just weeks after leaving the orphanage. Ivy and Carrieta had been going out of their way to ensure that the girl stayed here for as long as possible. She was too young and innocent at heart to be able to make it out in the world on her own yet.

"Guess what happened while you were out?" Beana chirped happily rocking onto her toes in such a way that the dirty yellow dress she wore swayed forward at the bottom.

"Why don't you tell me on the way," Ivy said glancing outside at the sun. "We need to get going to the reaping."

* * *

Oatis Hanes

* * *

"Oatis can I bring Booboo with me?" the little girl asked standing on her tippy toes as she stared into the hulking older boy with her soft sparkling black eyes.

"Yeah sure Carmel," Oatis sighed as he tied his shoe laces together, and stood up. The little girl's mouth stretched into a wide toothy grin before dashing over to the wooden chest in the corner and snatching a worn doll out of it.

"Booboo says thank you," Carmel crooned happily, hugging the doll tightly to her cheek.

"Well thank you Booboo for your good manners," Oatis replied.

He stood up and smoothed down his nice white dress shirt. The way the color sat on his muscular frame made his dark auburn brown skin pop. Compared to the other kids in the district, Oatis probably looked pretty spiffy. Dress cloths for the reaping were one of the few things he allowed his family to splurge on every year. He knew that it made the girls happy to get a new dress, and he had to admit, being able to walk out to the reapings in something respectable made him feel accomplished. Every time he saw one of his peers-who could commonly be found lounging around after school, complaining about how awful their parents- walking to the reaping in rags, he couldn't help but feel a little pride. He had sacrificed a lot of things over the years for his girls, but at least he could say that every drop of sweat he toiled over paid off.

"Oatis, we need to go," a high pitched voice called from outside.

"Up you go girl," Oatis muttered as he hoisted Carmel onto his shoulders. She clapped in glee as he felt her tiny hands resting on the top of his short-cropped brown hair.

He walked out of his extremely modest house (or well to do slum if you'd prefer), and onto the street. Outside waiting were three other girl's- one taller one with almond shaped eyes, one a few inches shorter than the first with a slender delicate frame, and another younger girl who had a tad more pep in her step than the other two.

"Sorry Lex, Carmel wanted to bring Booboo," Oatis said to the first, who was looking at the sun, checking the time.

The girl, Lex, nodded quietly. She understood, of course. When Carmel asked for her doll, that was what she got. "We just don't want to be late," she said, her black eyes returning to Oatis.

"Well then let's go," chirped the youngest girl dancing ahead on the dirt road towards the town square. Oatis smiled as the five of them began to walk. Vaddy, the girl who'd just spoken, was clearly in a good mood, and it wasn't hard to guess why, what with the promise of a good meal coming later that night.

"You feeling okay Carrid," Lex asked. The second tallest girl was trailing behind the rest of her family a little bit, her face a mix of anxiety and dread.

Oatis turned glancing over his shoulder. His smile of course vanished the minute he saw his sister looking so upset. "Come on Carrid, you're not going to get reaped," he said, tugging on a lock of her short brown hair.

"You don't know that," she whispered back looking at her feet.

"Sure I do. I've been in the bowl every year, and I haven't gotten picked," he said.

"I'd volunteer if you got picked Carrid," Lex said, a protective edge in her voice. "You're won't be going into that arena even if they try."

The girl bit her lip, her expression twisting even more. Clearly this conversation wasn't cheering her up in the slightest. "Hey Vaddy, do you remember where you're going during the reaping?" Oatis asked changing the topic. Carrid's eyes lit up with a silent gratitude for a moment before refilling with their previous worry.

"I'm going to go stand with Ms. Carrieta and all of the other kids with Carmel," she chirped back.

"I get to play with my friends," Carmel nodded from Oatis' shoulders.

"That's right," Oatis nodded.

Around them, the run down houses of the slums had transformed into the sturdier houses of the town. Instead of little shoddy huts, buildings lined the streets. Ahead Oatis could see the peacekeeper desk checking in District 11's youth. His eyes scanned the now relatively thick crowd, looking for Carrieta, and the children from the orphanage she managed.

"I see them Oatis," Lex said poking him in the shoulder. He followed her finger, his nodding when he had found them.

"Come on Vaddy, we've got to get you to Ms. Carrieta," he said.

* * *

Ivy Willosen

* * *

Ivy stood in a mob of young kids, counting heads beside Carrieta. This was usually the most hectic part of the reaping. It was never easy transporting all the kids to the town square, then keeping the orderly enough to get the few kids of reaping age into their correct places.

"Carrieta," a deep voice called through the noise of the crowd. Ivy glanced up, seeing who was calling, as Carrieta seemed preoccupied. A tall muscular boy with dark choclate brown skin, big black eyes, and a wide nose was making his way towards them. On top of his shoulders sat a small five-year-old girl, clearly related to him judging by her looks. She recognized him immediately of course. All the orphans in the district tended to know each other somehow.

She respected Oatis. When his father left his family years ago, orphaning the boy and his four younger sisters, he had stepped up to the plate. Juggling school, and several jobs, he became the sole supporter of his family, and to his credit, those four girls have eaten three meals a day every day since he became the provider. If only the other kids in the orphanage were lucky enough to have an older brother like him, perhaps then everyone would be better off.

Ivy smiled at Oatis and waved to him to send his two sisters over. He nodded, understanding, and set his little sister Carmel on the ground. A few moments later the little girl appeared through the crowd, holding one of her older sister's hands. "Carrieta, you've got two more," Ivy calleD. The woman looked over and nodded seeing the girls.

"Go bring your kids into the square Ivy," Carrieta called back. Ivy nodded and started leading the seven oldest orphans towards the peacekeeper desk. She felt a small hand slip into hers as they made their way forward. Looking down, she saw Beane clutching her hand with a nervous glint in her eye. Her stomach twisted a little with a protective hate. It killed her that the capitol was putting these kids through so much anxiety.

When they reached the desk, Ivy stepped forward, ushering the younger kids around her, so that she would be the last one to get her finger pricked.

"Hanging out with the street trolls again Ivy?" one of the peacekeeper's voice sounded from the table. Ivy's eyes flickered upwards towards the speaker, and immediately she felt a wave of irritation hit her. It would be just her luck that Silver would get assigned here. "I hope you at least made all the beds in the house first."

"Yes, that is exactly what I did this morning Silver. I woke up and thought 'well gee I've got to make the beds.' I totally wasn't worrying about the reaping or anything. That would be ridiculous," Ivy snapped, her voice thick with sarcasm. She knew that mouthing off wasn't a good idea. She could practically see Silver's mouth pull into that thin line of disapproval from under the bulky peacekeeper helmet. Ivy had no doubt that the woman would be withholding her dinner from her tonight. Oh well though. The self-satisfied feeling that was running through her was worth another meal-less night.

"Just give me your finger," the woman sneered grabbing out and pricking Ivy's hand rather forcefully. Ivy bit her tongue before she could say anything that would make things worse.

She waited only a second more, for Beana to get her finger pricked, before walking into the square. Row after row of their district's youth lined the usually vacant plaza, organized by age. "Will you walk me to the twelve year olds?" Beana whispered from beside Ivy. She smiled down at the girl.

"Of course."

She made a quick detour over to the youngest kids, pulling Beana quickly along. Before leaving her alone with her peers, Ivy kneeled down and enveloped the girl into a comforting hug. When she pulled away, she could feel Beana's little arms shaking slightly. "See you in a few minutes," Ivy said, tapping the girl's nose quickly. She didn't want to make a big ordeal out of this. It would only make things worse.

When she got back to the other teenager's her age, the mayor was already speaking. Ivy, of course, tuned out his voice almost completely. She had heard this speech one too many times already. It was only when he finished and Lewar Constantine, their district's escort stepped up to the microphone that she refocused.

Lewar was wearing an eccentric brown and green glittery suit, that matched his spiked olive green hair, and his skin was a sickly dark brown-orange color. Ivy thought that he was making some kind of effort to look like a plant, or a tree. Apparently he used to be District 7's escort before he got demoted here. You wouldn't guess by looking at him, but he was a very studious and punctual man. Despite his creative appearance, there was really nothing eccentric about the man.

"Ladies first," he said in his thick capital accent as he stretched a neatly manicured hand into the reaping bowl.

Picking out a piece of paper that had been resting neatly on the top, he rocked back onto his heels opening up the folds getting ready to read.

"Beane Kennedy," Lewar called out.

Ivy felt her stomach drop like a stone. No, this couldn't be happening. She watched as the little girl she'd been working so hard to protect was escorted by peacekeepers up to the stage. She felt her hands shaking as Lewar lowered the microphone to introduce little Beana to the district.

In her minds eye, Ivy saw Beana, in the capitol alone and scarred as they prepared her for the reaping. She saw her in the arena, running away from a nameless tribute before being skewered by a spear. A sudden overwhelming protective wave overcame Ivy.

Then Lewar leaned into the microphone. "Do I have any volenteers?" he asked the crowd. His face was impatient. District 11 didn't have volenteers. Everyone here had families to sustain, lives to live. Volunteering just wasn't something that happened. It goes without saying that when Ivy stepped forward, boldly raising her hand, every soul in the district was shocked.

"I volunteer," she said, her voice steady. Even Beana's moth dropped as Ivy made her way up to the platform.

She felt her heart thudding in her chest. Yes, the rest of the world had their families to support. They had their fields to harvest. They had people who would cry for them when they died. Ivy didn't though. She supported no one but herself. She worked as a maid for one of the most wretched women she had ever met. Only Carrieta would miss her, but orphans die of starvation all the time. Carrieta would move on with this loss, like she did when others died. And maybe, just maybe, if Ivy were to win, there wouldn't be so many deaths around that dingy old orphanage. She could use her newfound riches for something good, something that would help everyone.

By this time Lewar had recovered from his utter shock and moved the mircrophone towards Ivy. "What's your name?" he asked as if it was the most natural occurance in the world.

"Ivy, Ivy Willosen."

"Well, let's see who will be joining you in the arena Ivy," Lewar said reaching in and grabbing a name from the boy's bowl. "Oatis Hanes."

Ivy felt her stomach drop as the eighteen year olds all parted around the burly boy. He stood there frozen staring up at Lewar not comprehending what just happened. Then, just before the peacekeepers started to walk over and escort him up on stage, he took a deep breath and forced his feet to move, taking long strides up to the stage. She couldn't help but notice how he stared at his feet, not daring to look at anyone as he passed.

When he joined her up there, they shook hands, and she squeezed his reassuringly. That didn't stop the pained expression of fear and horrible worry from penetrating his eyes though. When they turned to face the crowd, Ivy followed his gaze. She spotted his oldest sister, Lex, tears streaming down her cheeks as her eyes as she made eye contact with her brother. She gave one slow purposeful nod, and Oatis closed his eyes shut for a moment. Then they were both escorted off the stage towards the justice buildings.

* * *

Oatis Hanes

* * *

Oatis' heart sang with relief when his four sisters burst through the door enveloping him into a hug. So many emotions were tugging at his heart, but none of them compared to the unbearable need to see his girls.

"It's going to be okay," he said as he buried his face into Lex's hair. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his eyes turning a puffy red."I-I'm going to make it out."

They pulled away looking at him with different expressions. Lex's face was the most distant. He could see her managing her emotions, trying to stay strong. She was going to have to be the rock in the family now, and this was her already starting to prove herself. She had nodded to him before, when he was on stage- a sign that she was ready for the job.

Carrid was crying and shaking. "I- I," she was blabbering, trying to find the right words. Finally she pulled a worn piece of blue fabric out of her pocket. It was an old blanket. It used to be Oatis' when he was little. "As your token," she stammered out. "To remind you of us."

Oatis took it wordlessly and kissed her on top of the head.

Carmel was looking up at him with a confused curious face. He picked her up and put her on his knee as he gazed over at Vaddy, who also looked like she was going to cry. "Come on guys, I can win. I'm big and strong," he picked up Vaddy in his free arm to prove the point. "I'm smart. People will sponsor me. I'll be back in no time." He knew the words were a lie the minute they came out of his mouth though. He might be strong, but he was no fighter.

"Oatis where are you going?" Carmel asked her little brow furrowing.

"I'm going to climb into the TV, and play a game," he said.

There was a knock on the door and a peacekeeper came in. Carrid leaped forward encasing her big brother into one last hug. Then next thing he knew, they were all gone, and he was left feeling broken and empty.

* * *

Ivy Willoson

* * *

Ivy wasn't expecting any visitors, but when Carrieta walked in with Beana, she couldn't say she was surprised. Beana was still crying, traumatized by the reaping.

Ivy tapped her on the nose and smiled. "Why are you so upset," she asked with a smile. "I told you that you weren't going into the arena."

"You, d-didn't have to do that," Beana cried.

She gave the girl a soft smile. "Yes I did," she whispered stroking Beana's hair.

Beana took something out of her pocket and stuffed it into Ivy's hand. It was a little bean, the size of a walnut.

"Thank you Beana," Ivy muttered hugging the girl again.

She looked up at Carrieta, giving her a half smile. The woman, who Ivy only knew as soft and kind, looked distant and hard now.

"Thank you Ivy. For everything," she said, her face grim.

Ivy smiled, thinking of all the food a victor could buy with just a little bit of their earnings. "When I come back, none of the kids are going to be starving anymore," she said looking the woman in the eye. She wouldn't be accepting good byes today. No, she had every expectation on returning, no matter the odds. She would do it for Beana.


	4. District 2: The Popular Crowd

Kegan Capiton, 16, District 2

* * *

Books. He was surrounded by shelf after shelf of books. A three-story house, with a huge room in the center that was filled from the floor to the roof with piles, stacks, cases of books. There were seven-thousand, one hundred, and twenty-two to be exact. He had counted a little while back. He had read exactly two thousand, forty-one of them since January twenty-third, in the year of the forty-eighth Hunger Games, the year he had been born. If he were to die next week, he'd only have read about twenty-eight percent of them, meaning he would still be missing seventy-two percent of the information. He wished he had more time to absorb more of it, but at least he had made the most of the library. In the last sixteen years his father, Hayden Capiton, had read exactly eighteen of the books, meaning the man had only accumulated about two hundredths of a percent of the information that was at his fingertips. At least Kegan could say he had taken every ounce of effort into ridding his mind of ignorance.

He was not in the library to read books though, not this time. No, today he laid in the center of the twenty-eight by seven foot long table, staring up at the circular chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. He had climbed up to the top of the library once to take measurements on the light fixture. It had a diameter of two feet, and a circumference of a little over six feet. He had read a book recently that explained a little about circuitry. It was fascinating. Sometimes he wished that he was born in District 3. He would fit in better there, and the factory work would be infinitely more interesting than a future here, working in the stone quarries. Not that he was going to be condemned to that mindless work.

No, after he won the Hunger Games, he would go get a job in the Nut. Working there, building weaponry, it would be the closest thing he'd ever get to working alongside the geniuses in District 3.

Shuffling footsteps sounded at the door. "Keeegan. Whater you doin hereee," the man slurred out.

The boy lifted his head, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up on his nose. His round steel grey eyes pierced into his father's drunken figure."If you have to know, I'm studying," he said curtly before lowering his head back down and returning his gaze on the chandelier. He wondered idly if he might have time to climb up there again now, so that he could remove it from the ceiling and examine the wiring behind it.

"Shhhouldn't you be f-f-fighting er somethin'? You'rrre gonna v-... volunteer today aren't you?" the man persisted, leaning against the door frame. He looked particularly disheveled today. His dark brown hair was matted down by some kind of liquid- probably alcohol- and his chin had a small stubble growing on it.

"I said I was didn't I? Or were you too drunk to understand what I said the first time?" the boy said, running a hand through his messy honey blonde hair.

"I ju.. I just thought yooou should be practiccing," the man said his face turning a flustered red.

"No, you did not think. If you were a man of thought, perhaps you would have known that it takes approximately three hours of intense exercise for someone with my level of fitness to improve their VDOT number by even the smallest fraction. Now do I have three hours? No, I don't. Any extra training at this point would be superfluous and unnecessarily exhausting," Kegan said. When he looked up, he found his father staring at him with an uncomprehending expression. He rolled his eyes and swung his legs off the table. His father was not going to leave, and by now he had already had been distracted enough from his contemplating. There was no reason to stay any longer in this house.

"I'm going out on a walk," he said. "Maybe you should stay here and _think _some more."

With that he strode out of the room.

* * *

Chateuax Masona, 16, District 2

* * *

The Tribute Academy in District 2 was located at the base of the mountain where The Nut was. It was an industrial building with steel walls and grey windows. Inside, there was only one spacious room that wasn't too different from the training room used in the actual capitol. In the far corner was a small sit down class room set up with several chairs facing a green chalkboard, but that was the extent of the academic aspects of the room. The rest was completely dedicated to weaponry. There was a shooting range, with several different types of bows set up; a group of dummies beside a rack of sharpened knives and spears; a marked path that wrapped around the room's perimeter that functioned as a track; and so much more. If ever there was a place meant to train and raise killers, it was here.

Students at the Tribute Academy didn't receive the same breaks that normal children did. They went to school during the summer, on holidays, and even sometimes over the weekends. Today was the exception though. Reaping day was a privilege for those from the Academy. It was in a sense, their graduation day-the only time during the year when they said farewell to two of their own. It would be reasonable then that it would be vacant right now, but it wasn't. In the center of the room by the knife throwing station, four girls were standing around, chatting.

Only one of the four seemed to be actually using the equipment in the room. A tall girl with long black hair was examining the knife selection. With the eye of an expert, she reached over, taking one of them in her long fingers, and ran the sharp edge along her palm. She licked her lips as she examined it, deciding that it would be acceptable.

"Hey Sailey, how many tributes do you think Chateuax will kill?" the girl said to one of her companions. Then she let the knife fly. It rolled in the air, soaring passed the knife throwing targets, and plunging into the trachea of one of the fighting dummies. Her red lips curled into a satisfied smile.

A second girl who was sitting on the ground watching the first throw the knives, chewed on her thumbnail. "Seven," she said. Her brown eyes were distant. Clearly she had not put much thought into the number. It was simply the first one that popped into her head.

"No way," the third girl said. She leaned on the table with the knives, twirling her auburn hair in her fingers. "You have to be legendary to get seven kills."

The final girl's sky blue eyes flickered upwards, annoyance penetrating her calm expression. "And you think I'm _not _legendary Jamine? Because if I remember our last sparring exercise, I pinned you in seconds," she sneered.

The girl who threw the knife smirked. "And I had a dagger at your throat a minute later," she said, a superior glint in her eyes.

"That doesn't mean I can't get seven kills, Chloe. It just means that I can't kill you," the fourth girl said her eyes narrowing. Chloe glared at her challenger, her own black eyes boring into the other's blue ones. Both knew the inevitable outcome, and when the other looked away, Chloe smirked.

"We all know that I'm the only one here who could get seven kills, so don't bother questioning it," she throwing another knife. This one plunged into the dummy's head, right between the eyes. "It doesn't _really_ matter how many kills you get though. Just win. We love you way too much for you to go die." The words came out of the girl's mouth coated in the sweetest sugar, but they all knew that it was a lie. If Chateaux died in the arena, she would be worse than dead in Chloe's heart. It would be as if she had never existed or ever went to the Tribute Academy. Chloe, Jamine, and Sailey would move on as if they'd never known her. If she won, however, well then maybe Chloe wouldn't be the one in charge anymore.

Chateaux shot her friend a false smile. "Oh, you don't have to worry. I'll win. Just don't get too upset when I stick your boyfriend," she said.

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Didn't I tell you? Brody isn't volunteering this year anymore. He switched with Kegan," Chloe said.

On the floor, Sailey suddenly started paying much more attention to the conversation as she started to bite her nails subconsciously. "Why?" she asked.

"It's pathetic really. You know how his father's a drunk right? Well he tried to sell Kegan's sister to some stranger the other day. Like I told you, pathetic. Kegan apparently promised to volunteer early to get him to stop. He came up to Brody the other day groveling on the ground begging to switch years with him. Of course Brody agreed because you know he's _such _a nice person. Kegan is just lucky that he wasn't eighteen. That would have been unfortunate," Chloe explained a smirk playing across her face. Beside her Jamine snorted and Chateaux's eyes lit up amused.

"Really? Well, if I'm going up against the blind kid, I'm definitely going to win," she said.

"Kegan's not that bad guys. He's really smart," Sailey muttered looking away. Chloe pursed her lips and looked down at the girl.

"Yeah right. Sometimes I swear, the words that come out of your mouth, they just don't make any sense," Chloe shook her head. Sailey just looked at the ground, choosing not to speak anymore as to avoid further ridicule. A few moments later the incident was dismissed, and the four girls were back to their chatting, all very excited for Chateaux's impending graduation.

* * *

Kegan Capiton, 16

* * *

He watched as the peacekeepers took a long metal device and plunged the needle into a little girl's finger. A few seconds passed before it beeped, and the girl was admitted into the square. The little device was fascinating. He wished that he could get one, so that he could dissect it. There must be some kind of microchip in there that has a record of every child's DNA. It also has to have some way of reading the blood the needle takes in. He would have thought that finger prints would have been an easier method of identification. After all, a pair of twins would have the same DNA, but not the same finger print. He wondered why then the capitol chose blood. Surely they must have a reason.

"Kegan," a girl called from a little ways off. Kegan who was standing in the middle of the street a few yards away from the check in station turned towards the voice. A petite girl with long curly hair- the same color as his own- was running towards him. He didn't smile upon seeing her face, instead he returned his eyes to the peacekeeper check in, where he watched another kid get pricked with the needle.

"Hey," he muttered as she arrived at his side. "How do you think those work?"

She rolled her big hazel brown eyes at him, nudging him in the side. "I don't know, maybe you should ask them," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. That coaxed a smile out of the boy, which in turn triggered an even bigger smile out of the girl.

"You ready for the reaping?" he asked taking his glasses off and cleaning the lenses on his shirt. The girl's smile faltered. "It's not that big a deal, Chastel, I was going to be volunteering next year anyway."

"Yeah, and I thought I was going to get an extra year in before I had to watch my brother get brutally murdered on live television," she retorted.

"I'm not going to get murdered. Have you ever met the imbeciles at the Tribute Academy? It's deplorable how ignorant they are. Honestly, if you are going to call them elite, then I really don't want to know what tributes from the outer districts are like," Kegan said shaking his head.

Chastel rolled her eyes again. "Deplorable?" she asked.

"Deserving strong condemnation. You should read more," Kegan answered on cue.

"I don't count the dictionary as good literature," Chastel reminded him. Kegan just shrugged. That was what most people told him, but he'd rather read the entire dictionary cover to cover than have to ask someone to define a word in conversation.

The two siblings stood there for a moment in silence before Chastel reached into her back pocket and handed Kegan something. He took the object in his hand eagerly and examined it. It was a chunky golden ring that fit perfectly around Kegan's finger. He could feel something engraved on the inside of the metal, and he held the ring up, bringing it very close to his eye so he could make out the small lettering.

Squinting, he read the letters aloud. "K. C.? This is yours. Mom meant for you to have it," he said handing it back to his sister. He recognized the ring immediately of course. When his mother was alive, she used to wear it every day. While it was true K.C. were his initials, they also happened to be his mother's. After she had disappeared a few years back, Kegan's father had promptly began selling all of her old belongings. This ring was the last thing the two children had of their mother. They didn't even know how she had died, or what happened to her. No thanks to their pathetic excuse for a father.

"But she didn't know that you were volunteering. I want you to have it for good luck. I was going to give it to you in the justice building, but I thought I'd have more time here," Chastel said.

"I wasn't even planning on bringing in a token," Kegan muttered. Tokens were just sentimental things that the condemned used as comfort in their final hour. Kegan was neither sentimental nor condemned, so he had no reason to bring anything into the arena.

"I know, but I wanted you to have something when you're in there," Chastel told him rocking onto her toes. Kegan nodded slipping the ring onto his finger.

"We should go, the reaping will be starting soon," he said. Without another word, he took off, walking straight over to the check in center. The peacekeepers didn't even have to ask him for his finger when he stepped up to the desk. He handed it to them willingly, marveling over the small pinch of pain he received when they stabbed his finger with the needle.

* * *

Chateaux Masona, 16

* * *

Chateaux stood beside Jamine with the other sixteen year olds, eager for things to get underway. The other kid's their age were all staring at the two girls as they all knew whose turn it was to volunteer this year. The two pretended to be oblivious to the stares they were getting as they chatted about boys. Career boys to be exact. It would be unacceptable to even think about dating someone from normal society. The secretive glances were getting on Chateaux's nerves though, when finally she turned to the girl standing on her right shooting her a venomous look.

"I know that I am very pretty, and I am sure you are feeling very jealous right now, but would you mind paying attention to someone else," she snapped. The girl's mouth opened and closed once before she obeyed, averting her eyes and staring at the ground. "That's better," Chateaux muttered before returning to Jamine. The other girl was giggling slightly.

"You're very scary," she said smiling. Chateaux stood a little straighter, a superior glint in her eye, but didn't respond. "You know I think Sailey has a crush on Kegan," Jamine went on with an exasperated huff. "I mean after all we've done for the girl and she picks the one weirdo at the academy to crush on."

"I know, it's sort of tragic," Chateaux sighed.

Suddenly the mayor tapped on his microphone in the front of the crowd. Both girls looked up, but upon realizing that it was just the mayor speaking, they returned to their chatting, lowering their voices a tad.

"Hopefully she just won't be too crushed when I win. I mean Kegan can't make it out alive if I am going to," Chateaux went on.

"Well, I guess if he won, she can be allowed to date him," Jamine contemplated. Chateaux shot the girl glare, furry burning in her eyes. Quickly, Jamine fixed her statement. "But he won't win because you're way too good." Chateaux relaxed.

Up on the stage, Albina Schetz was walking over to the microphone. Chateaux nudged Jamine, and they both turned, dedicating their full attention to the escort. As Chateaux watched the lizard woman speak, she couldn't help but glance over at the long line of victors sitting beside the mayor. It was one woman in particular that her eyes found. Sitting in fourth seat from the end sat a skinny woman with long black hair that ran halfway down her back. Her icy blue eyes pierced the crowd from below her drawn disapproving brow. Chateaux could feel the woman's eyes on her back as Albina Schetz reached into the ball and pulled out a name.

"Kell Frost," the escort called. Some fourteen year old walked up lazily to the stage. This was just a formality, drawing a name from the ball. Everyone knew that someone was going to volunteer.

Chateaux forced herself to look the icy woman in the eye, glaring at her. In response, the victor pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. The words 'well do it already', written across her face. Chateaux ruefully glanced up at Alba, waiting for her to ask for volunteers. She needed her mom to stop giving her that obnoxious disapproving look.

"Well, do we have any volunteers?" Albina asked. Finally.

Chateaux raised her hand. "I volunteer as tribute," she called out. Jamine pulled her into a hug- probably so that she'd get a few seconds on camera-before letting her go up onto the stage. Once up there, she glanced over at her mother. The woman's lips were no longer pursed, but there was no pride in her features either. Chateaux flicked her hair over her shoulder and glanced over at the crowd searching for Kegan. She should have known that the woman wouldn't be happy, even now when it wad only a matter of days before she entered the arena. Nothing was ever going to be good enough for her.

* * *

Kegan Capiton, 16

* * *

Kegan watched silently as Chateaux introduced herself to the crowd. The entire time the fakest smile was plastered onto her face, the kind someone wore when they were trying to be your friend, so they could learn your deepest darkest secrets, then spill them to the world. It would be fair to say that he hated Chateaux. He hated her, all of her friends, and most of the others at the academy.

Hate was an illogical emotion. It clouded forethought and forced people to make errors. All the same, there was no stopping his feelings about his peers. In a month, when he returned to the district as the crowned victor, then he'd see who would be laughing. The people who a year earlier had pushed him around, taking his glasses and calling him blind, they would suck up to him, try and be his friend. Well, he couldn't wait, because when they did, he planned on paying everything back to them tenfold. He won't be their mentors in the arena. He won't tell them larger than life stories about his accomplishments. He won't give them secret access to victors village. No, he will look them in the face, and call them out for what they were- jerks.

The escort moved over to the boy's bowl, and pulled out the name. Kegan wasn't even paying attention when some kid in the front row stumbled up on stage, looking around nervously for whoever was supposed to volunteer.

"So, do I have a second volunteer?" Albina Schetz asked, playing up the drama.

Kegan let the kid sweat it for a minute before walking forward. "Yeah. Whatever, I volunteer," he said pushing his glasses up his nose and walking up to the stage with his dignity. He could see Chateaux smirking at him as he took his spot. Already she was taking him as dead.

"May I ask your name young sir?" Albina said.

"Kegan. Kegan Capiton," he answered. His eyes skirted the crowd, finally settling on Chastel. Her bottom lip was quivering, and some girl- probably one of her friends- was whispering something to her. He sighed. It wasn't like he didn't give her fair warning.

"Shake hands you two," Albina said cutting into Kegan's conscious. He turned looking over at his tribute partner. Their eyes met as he gripped her hand, and she gripped his. He already knew their fates. Over the next week they would play nice, pretend they were best friends back home. Then when they entered the arena, all bets would he off. By the time the dust had settled, he would be sure Chateaux found no ally in him.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Kegan Capiton and Chateaux Masona, your District Two tributes!"

* * *

Chateaux Masona, 16

* * *

Chateaux sat down in the justice building, enjoying the peace and quiet. It was nice to finally be out of the public eye. She didn't have to try and please anyone when she was alone- whether that be Chloe, her mom, or the camera. Chloe, Jamine, and Sailey said their good byes a moment ago. She wasn't expecting anyone else to come. After all, the only family she had left was her mom, and she wouldn't be saying good bye to her just yet. The woman was going to be her mentor.

Suddenly the door creaked open, and Chateaux jumped a little in surprise. Who could possibly be coming in now?

A petite girl with flowing brown hair walked in, her pretty brown eyes staring at her feet. Chateaux felt her throat swell up immediately. There was no scenario that she had ever played in her head that would involve Zia coming to say goodbye. She had hurt the girl far too much to ever expect that Zia would want to see her face again.

"Hi Chateaux," she said standing there awkwardly.

"Hi Zia," Chateaux responded quietly. She felt her gut clench. Zia was probably the only person on the planet that would be able to make her feel this guilty, and she was doing a pretty good job at it.

The two girls were friends once, a long long time ago, before Chateaux had joined the Academy. They had been inseparable, playing dress up together, talking about how they wanted to grow up to be princesses. Things changed when she went into training though. She had met Chloe, and when you're friends with Chloe, you aren't friends with people outside the Academy. When Chloe realized that Chateaux still was being friendly with the girl, Zia became a target, and at some point, Chateaux had decided that Chloe was a more important friend than Zia. To be blunt, she had said somethings that she regretted immensely right now.

"I wanted to come and say good-bye," the girl mumbled looking at her feet.

Chateaux looked up at her, trying to find the right thing to say. "Zia... look, I'm, I'm real sorry about the way they treated you... the way I treated you. You don't have to come here and pretend that you're not mad at me."

Zia rocked forward onto her toes. "I'm not mad at you. I mean, I get it. You had to join the Academy after your dad died. I know your mom can be overbearing. If I were you I would have done the same thing. I just didn't want you to die without telling you that I don't hold anything against you for it," she said. The words came out very fast, and every one of them felt like a dagger in her heart. Guilt threatened to drown her.

"I also wanted to remind you though," Zia went on. "... Just play the game the way your dad would've wanted you to play it. Not the way your mom does, or the way Chloe does. I owe that much to my best friend, wherever she went."

Chateaux turned white. "I'm really sorry," she said.

"I just hope that she gets the message somehow. Maybe you'll tell her," Zia continued pretending like she hadn't heard the apology. One of the peacekeepers tapped on the door, and Zia nodded. "Good luck Chateaux."

Then she was gone


	5. District 5: Oddities

Luna Morristeen, 14, District 5

* * *

Thump… Thump… Thump, the girl swung her feet forward and back. At the peak of every arch, one of her heels hit the wooden frame of her bed, filling the room with the echoing sound of knocking wood. Her eyes stared blankly down, watching as if in a trance as she caught small glimpses of her pale legs swaying out from the bottom of her delicate dress.

Her wispy blonde hair caught a small gust of wind through the open window, dancing momentarily in front of her eyes and catching the light to form a white halo around the girl's head. Her eyes did not waver from her feet though. She continued to stare, letting the easy rhythm thump around in her head.

Thump… Thump… Thump…

"Hey Princess," a voice called from the doorway. The words rang in the air, coming off in such a way that a silent observer wouldn't be sure what to make of the nickname. Was it a term of endearment, or simply a brother making fun of his sister?

On cue, the girl's strange eyes flickered upwards, her feet stopped kicking, and her mind returned to the present. "Hey Ignacio," she said, her voice quiet and slightly airy.

Her brother grinned at her, his brilliant blue eyes lighting up, amused. "I was going to come tell you to start getting ready, but it looks like you're a step ahead of me," he said. The boy himself had already begun getting dressed. A neatly ironed white dress shirt sat crisply on his strong muscular frame, and a black tie was slung loosely around his neck.

The girl shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, so I just decided to get up."

Ignacio gave her a good-humored smirk. "I told you to lay off the caffeinated coffee princess. You need your beauty sleep," he teased. The girl's mouth eased into a miniscule smile. Her brother was joking of course. He of all people knew that she suffered from chronic nightmares. She didn't even like coffee.

"When do we have to go?" she asked moving the subject away from sleep.

"A.S.A.P," Ignacio said. "But not until you tie my tie, first. I asked mom to help out and she asked me why I didn't know how to do it myself. I swear the women around this house, they are all so demanding."

That did it. Luna couldn't help but giggle at that one. Hopping to her feet, she walked over to her brother, and started messing with his tie. It took her three tries, as it had been a year since her brother last needed her help with this, but she eventually got it right. "There," she said once she'd finished, stepping away from her brother.

"Thanks princess, now if I'm sentenced to certain doom later, I'll at least be able to say that I went to the grave looking like prince charming," he said, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Luna followed Ignacio down the steps to the main level of the house. In the kitchen, her mother sat alone at the table, picking absent-mindedly at a piece of toast. When she saw Ignacio enter the room, she smiled and nodded in acknowledgement; however, even though Luna was standing right next to him, the woman's eyes seemed to just glaze over her, not seeing. It was like she didn't even exist.

"You want something to eat?" Ignacio asked walking over to the cabinet and starting to raid it's contents.

"I'm okay," Luna muttered, quietly taking a seat beside her mother. Still the woman didn't seem to notice she was there.

"I don't believe you," Ignacio accused. "You're eating something before we go out today. It's not proper for a princess to be such a stick. The district will think we're starving you." A moment later, he fished a box of cereal from behind all of his "man food", and dished out a bowl for Luna. As the girl began to munch on the little circular pieces, Ignacio plopped himself down beside her, a plate of microwaved pancakes and cold sausage in front of him.

"So Ezra said he's not going to the reaping today. He's at the power plant with Dad," Ignacio said.

Luna's mother looked up, blue eyes filling with momentary interest. "Will he be coming over with Zaria for dinner later?" she asked.

Ignacio shrugged. "I don't know. You know them though, they'll probably want to stay at their place for the night. Have some kind of special date dinner or something," he said, rolling his eyes as he thought of his older brother and his fiancé.

"He said he was going to spend the night at the Power Plant looking over Dad's journal. He was going to ask you if you wanted to come," Luna said tentatively glancing over at Ignacio first, then at her mother.

"Oh, well that's a shame," her mom muttered, a pained expression twisting over her face as her eyes came in contact with her daughter's. Luna let a small sigh slip out. This was generally how the woman was. On the rare occasion that she actually noticed the girl, her eyebrows would knit, and her eyes would become watery. Not that she could blame her mom for hating her. After all, she was powerless years ago when Starr had died. Luna couldn't hold a grudge against the woman for being powerless, especially when she knew she deserved each and every pained expression her mom shot her way.

* * *

Layton Cross, 15, District 5

* * *

"Oh my, Layton what are you wearing?" a blonde haired woman sighed looking up from her newspaper.

The boy who she was speaking to grinned as he straightened the pinstriped vest that he wore over a bright lime green shirt. His pants were a contrasting yellow, and had a large grass stain under the left knee. The entire outfit was rather fitted, making the boy's gangly limbs look even more awkward than usual.

"It's cool mom," the boy declared, strutting into the kitchen. The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again.

She had long since learned not to question her son in situations like these. If anything it would only make him return to his room, and come back down wearing something even more eccentric. "If you say so honey," she replied returning her eyes to the newspaper. Layton grinned, very satisfied with her reaction. Now he just needed Bender and Marty to hurry up and get downstairs. They'd get a kick out of his get up. In the meantime Layton started preparing himself something to eat, hitting the toaster on the side a few times before it started running.

As if on cue, the thumping of feet sounded on the stairs, as one of Layton's brothers came down for breakfast. The second the new comer got a glimpse of Layton's very loud outfit, he groaned. "You're not actually going out in public like that are you? You look like you just walked straight out of the capitol," he asked.

Layton spun around to find Bender, a tall muscular guy with brown curly hair and light blue eyes, frowning at him. "That's the point," Layton beamed, laughing a little. "Reaping day is just like dress-up-as-your-favorite-capitol-citizen day. This is what they want you to do."

Bender shook his head. "Mom, you're not going to let him out like that are you?" he complained shooting his brother a pained look.

"Just go eat your breakfast honey," the woman said, not even bothering to look up from her newspaper. Bender sighed, and walked over to the refrigerator, muttering about all the crap his friends were going to give him when they saw Layton.

"So I made a bet with this guy that two eighteen year olds were going to be picked this year," Layton said as he returned to the table with some toast. Both Bender and Layton's mother looked up and stared at him.

"I'm sorry you did what?" his mom asked.

"You heard me, I made a bet. I think if this works out for me, I could become like a gambler extraordinaire. You know, I'm a really lucky guy," Layton responded leaning back as he spread a wad of butter on his bread. Neither Layton's mom, nor Bender had a response to that one. They both just stared at him.

"Hey why's everyone so quiet?" a voice called from the stairs. A moment later little Marty started coming down, his dress cloths looking very pristine on his tiny twelve-year-old frame. When he saw his older brother, he simply rolled his eyes and took a seat.

"Hey squirt," Layton grinned, messing up the kid's meticulously jelled blonde hair.

"Stop that," Marty whined giving Layton a good shove.

"Lighten up. It's reaping day, get excited," Layton sang, jumping up to his feet.

"When you get picked, I'm going to laugh," Marty muttered glaring at his older brother.

"Stop it boys," their mom muttered again not looking up from her newspaper.

Bender sighed, checking his watch. "Why don't we just get going," he said, standing up.

"But I haven't eaten yet," Marty complained.

"Eat while we walk then," Bender said, throwing an apple at the kid. Of course, Marty wasn't half as athletic as Bender, and when he tried to catch the apple, it slipped right through his hands.

"And the tribute drops the apple, giving his opponent a golden opportunity to stick him with a knife," Layton said, pretending to hold a microphone to his mouth,lowering his voice, and talking in an accent so that he sounded like Caesar Flickerman. Marty shot his brother a dirty look.

"Good bye boys," their mother called out quickly, grabbing both of them by the ear and pulling them outside before the sibling bickering got any worse.

* * *

Luna Morristeen, 14

* * *

Luna looked around the huge crowd of girls her age, searching. District Five was not a large one, but unlike Twelve or One, they had a pretty intricate school system. In fact, they had a grand total of fifteen schools- a number that was ginormous when compared to smaller Districts, which only had one or two. Needless to say, with that many unfamiliar faces around, spotting her one friend in the crowd was a bit tedious.

"Luna," a voice called over the noise of the crowd. Luna spun around, not seeing who called her at first. Then just before she dismissed the voice, she caught a skinny brown haired girl's eye.

"Hi," she said as she pushed her way over to her best friend, Lina. The two girls hugged each other in greeting. "I looked for you out there, but Ignacio said we had to come in."

"That's okay," Lina replied. "So, did your parents say bye today?"

Luna shook her head. "No, they were the same," she said as she looked at her feet.

Lina sighed. "Mine too," she muttered. Lina's father was a self absorbed bum, staying at home almost all the time, and eating all of their families food. Her mom had to work all the time to be able to support the family. It was probably one of the reasons why Luna felt so close to the girl. Both of then hardly saw their parents, and when Lina's dad saw the girls, he had much of the same reaction that Luna's mom had when she saw her daughter. Their neglection had brought the two together.

"You seen Xavier?" Luna asked changing the subject.

"I walked here with him. He said to tell you he said hi," the other girl replied. Xavier was Luna's second and final friend. He had met the two girls when they were eight after one of the older kids had given him a beating. The two girls had helped get him to the doctor, and after that, the kid wouldn't leave them alone. After avoiding him for a month, the girls had finally given in, and now he was just as close to Luna as Lina was.

Luna glanced up at the stage absently. The mayor was standing up there chatting with Reyna Pulmer, the district escort. Behind them were the District victors. Five had six of them, a rather impressive number for a non-career district- four boys and two girl. Well, now it was more like four men and one women. They were all well into adulthood, and Vida Arbitor, Five's second victor died many years ago. The most recent victor was Isaac Luster. He had won the fifty-fifth games when he created some kind of battery and then used a spear to channel the electricity into the other finalist's chest. It was very impressive, and according to the capitol, a great showing of District pride.

Suddenly the loud bell of the town's grandfather clock rung through the air. Reyna Pulman and the mayor jumped into action, taking their places to begin the proceedings.

* * *

Layton Cross, 15

* * *

Layton stood alone in the crowd of fifteen-year-old boys looking far too pleased with himself. It was probably because practically everyone was giving him weird side-ways glances. He did enjoy it when people looked at him funny. It meant that he was doing something right. Even the boy beside him was having a time keeping himself from staring.

"I think you've got something on your face," Layton whispered to the kid. "Everyone's staring at you."

"Um, if you say so," the boy responded, his face twisting strangely.

"See that's not helping when you make that face. It's very odd," he said pointing at the boy's expression.

"I'm not making a face," the boy denied immediately. Layton shook his head.

"Sure you are. Your eyebrows are pushing together weirdly, and your mouth is twitching. Are you sure your okay? I've heard of plenty of people who have come down with a case of the Reaping Flu," Layton said, his face clouding with worry.

"Dude, I'm not five, there is no such thing as the reaping flu," the boy responded crossing his arms.

"Sure there is. My brother Marty got it this year. He's twelve, and you know how all the little kids get really nervous. They're extra vulnerable to getting it. His eyes have been real watery, and he's been very irritable. I swear, more people need to be informed about Reaping Flu. It's an epidemic," Layton said, nodding.

On the stage, Reyna Pulman tapped on the microphone, ready to begin proceedings. "Yeah whatever," the boy said dismissing Layton.

Both turned their attention to the stage where Reyna was going on about what an honor it was to be District Five's escort. Needless to say, that didn't hold Layton's attention for very long.

"I think she looks like a raccoon," he whispered to the boy on his right, who promptly ignored him. He didn't need the boys attention to keep talking though. "Her nose is shaped really weird, and she's got so much make-up on that her eyes look too black. She shouldn't wear that much make up. It's weird."

The boy snuck a sideways glance at Layton, looking up and down at his peculiar outfit. Before saying anything though, Reyna Pulman interrupted him.

"Layton Cross," she called holding up a slip of paper.

"What?" Layton said turning his head and looking around. Then it hit him. Reyna Pulman had just said his name. Suddenly, the subtle laughter and wide grin was wiped clean off his face, and he went white.

"No, you're kidding," he said loudly enough for her to hear. "I got picked? I can't get picked. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap. No, this can't be happening. Just pick someone else. Pick someone else! I'm... I'm too young. And I like my life. Pick someone who doesn't like their life."

As he babbled, his mouth running non-stop, the peacekeepers started approaching. It was only when they started dragging them that he seemed to recover even the slightest bit of sense.

"I can walk myself," he said yanking away from them. He could feel the sting of tears starting to form in his eyes. "See, look now you've made me cry," he muttered to no one in particular. "I never cry. I haven't cried since I was really little..."

* * *

Luna Morristeen, 14

* * *

Luna watched as some boy wearing some strange cloths walked up onto the stage, running his mouth the entire time. She vaguely recognized him, though she didn't think they'd ever formally met. Maybe he went to the same school as her? She wasn't sure. If he dressed like that all the time, then she'd probably seen him on the street, and his face had just stuck in her mind. Regardless, she felt bad for him though.

"Ah yes, well why don't we pick our female tribute, then," Reyna Pulman said once the boy, Layton finally arrived up on the stage.

Lina's hand slipped into Luna's, and the two girl's closed their eyes. They did this every year, for good luck. With only her ears to guide her, Luna listened as the sound of papers crinkling in the microphone echoed around the silent stadium. The escort must have picked a name from the very bottom of the bowl because she was making a lot of noise. After a few seconds, Reyna Pulman cleared her throat.

"Luna Moristeen," she said.

Luna felt her stomach drop ten million feet. Beside her, Lina was frozen, not even comprehending what had just happened. Luna knew what it meant though. She was going to the Hunger Games and she was going to die. Suddenly, her breaths came too shallow, and she felt a wet tear roll down her face. The sea of kids parted around her, as someone must have tipped them off that she was the one chosen.

Her brain told her to move her feet. She should try and look strong now, for the sponsors. She couldn't move though. Maybe if she stood there long enough, they'd just move on. But no. Out of no where she felt peacekeeper gloves gripping her elbows, gently guiding her upstage. With the two unnamed guards pushing her, she somehow found the strength to move.

At least she could do that much. Most years, tributes had to be dragged from their spot.

"Hello dear," Reyna Pulman greeted her when she arrived. She took a deep breath and tried to blink back the tears that had been falling off her chin, wetting the top of her dress. Look strong, she told herself.

"Shake hands you two," their escort told them.

She0 turned towards Layton Cross, her District partner. She couldn't tell from her spot next to Lina, but his eyes were red and puffy. It looked like he wanted to cry too.

"You're eyes are weird," he said as she took his hand. His sky blue eyes were staring at her with an almost uncomfortable intensity. She felt a rush of heat burn in her cheeks as she looked away. Her eyes were multi colored. The outer rim was blue, the middle was lime green with brown specks, and the inner most rim was blue again. Ignacio said it was her crowning feature. Well, at least she had that going for her right?

* * *

Layton Cross, 15

* * *

Layton stood in the Justice Building feeling numb and alone. Two peacekeepers were standing outside the door, and he tried talking to them. They weren't all that chatty though. Even after he told them they were boring, they just kept standing there like statues. After a few minutes of that he'd gotten bored and went back into the room. He should probably sit down, but he felt too antsy to sit. He wanted to go out and run or something. Although, he'd never really been a runner before. At least it'd be better than being cooped up in here all alone.

Unexpectedly, the door opened, and everyone poured in. He was enveloped in his mother's arms almost immediately.

"Mom, you're squeezing me too hard," Layton muttered quietly, although he made no move to push her away. When she did finally release him, his vest was wet with her tears.

"I think I lost my bet, huh mom," he said looking at the floor. She let out a choked laugh, and drew him into another crushing hug.

He looked behind her to see the rest of his family- Bender, Marty, and his dad. His father was the only one not sniffling, but Layton could see in the man's eyes that he was crushed.

He stepped forward, patting his wife's back with one of his hands. The other he wrapped around Layton, pulling the boy close to his chest. "It's alright hun. Layton can win. Tell her Layton. You can win," he muttered his face looking ashen.

"I can win mom," Layton nodded half heartedly. No one sounded very convinced.

"Yeah you can. You just need a bat, just like the one we play Batty Ball with. You can use it like a weapon, and you can make one of those, just like the way we made the one that's in the closet. It's not that hard," he said.

"Or you can annoy all the other tributes to death," Marty muttered, his eyes pinned on the ground as he sniffled quietly to himself.

And despite everything, Layton grinned. "I don't annoy people, just you," he said messing up Marty's hair. The boy didn't protest this time though. After all, even Marty knew Layton's odds. For the entire family, this was good bye.

* * *

Luna Morristeen, 14

* * *

Unlike her District partner, Luna did not stand around in her room in the Justice Building. No, she sat in the corner, pulling her knees to her chest, and rocked back and forth. There was no stopping the tears anymore. She was lucky she had been able to hold them back as long as she did. She didn't even notice when Ignacio appeared beside her, hugging her as she cried into his chest.

"Listen Luna," he said his voice cracking. "You're not going to die in the arena. You're not going to go die on me like Starr."

Luna glanced up at her brother. He was the only person in the room, the only one in her family who had come in to say good bye to her. "Maybe it was supposed to be like this," she sniffled. "Maybe I wasn't supposed to just let Starr die alone."

Ignacio shook his head. "She would've wanted you to live. You understand? Anyway shouldn't you know that, with your twin telepathy?" he said.

Luna just shrugged, thinking about Starr, the twin sister she buried many many years ago. They were both sick and dying, but only she lived. And now Starr was alone in the afterlife because somehow, Luna knew she had abandoned her sister, leaving her to die alone while she gradually recovered.

"Listen Luna," Ignacio said. "Mom's going to come in next. Ok? She wanted to talk to you." Luna looked up at him shocked. Since when did her mom care about her? She was never good enough for her mother's affection.

"Why? She hates me," Luna asked.

Ignacio shook his head, a broken smile on his face. "She doesn't hate you. She just misses Starr. We all miss Starr. You just look a lot like her, and it's hard for mom sometimes. It's not her fault though," Ignacio said. Then he added, "And it's not yours either."

The peacekeepers knocked on the door, telling them that Ignacio had to leave. His time was up. The only thing that kept her from clinging to him any longer was the terrifying knowledge that her mom was about to walk in those doors.

"Don't you go dying on me Princess," Ignacio called as they shut the door on him.

The door opened again too soon, and her mother walked in. For a moment the two just stood there staring at each other. Then her mom ran over to her, and enveloped her in a hug. The woman pulled her daughter close, sobbing the entire time, and just held her. That's all she did. But it was exactly what Luna needed.

As the peacekeepers returned tearing the woman away from her condemned daughter, she screamed. "I love you Luna. I lo-"

Then door forced shut, and Luna was left alone, feeling stunned and overwhelmed. "I love you too mom," she whispered, even though she would be the only one to hear it.


	6. District 7: The Dark Side

Lindon Lizar, 15 District 7

* * *

Lindon Lizar was not hot. His frame was small and knobby, making his short stature painfully apparent. Though he was by no stretch of the imagination overweight, his cheeks had a youthful roundness to them, giving him an unfortunate childish appearance. A pair of delicately fragile glasses sat perfectly askew upon his button nose. Then, to top things off, he was horribly out of shape. And attractive people are always at the peak of fitness.

Despite all this though, Lindon was incredibly untouched by his child-like, innocent, maybe even nerdy looks. He was not plagued by low self esteem as many other unsightly young boys were, everyone in the District was pleasant around him, and of course there was Ava, his girlfriend. To think that one of the more geeky looking kids in the District could be dating the most appallingly beautiful girl to maybe even be alive at the time was quite a thought. What an incredible stroke of luck the boy must have had to reel in someone of her stature! Or perhaps, it wasn't luck at all.

Currently, Lindon sat on a stone wall, leaning back on his hands while he watched two birds chase each other in the canopies. Their wings were flapping vigorously as they darted between branches. He didn't know why the two birds were chasing each other, and he didn't particularly care. It was simply what birds did.

"Hey Lindon," a voice as smooth as a freshening summer breeze called from down the path way. Lindon looked up, a smile playing across his lips as a a gorgeous brunette appeared turned the bend.

"Ava, good you came," Lindon said, jumping to his feet. He walked over to the girl and stood on his tippy toes, brushing his lips against hers. "I was worried for a minute there that your... parents were holding you up again."

"You know I wouldn't ditch you today," the girl replied, her lips pulling into a forced troubled smile. Lindon either was oblivious to her troubles, or chose to ignore them, because he slipped his hand into hers, and started to pull her around back towards the town.

"Well, you know me, always worrying," Lindon said with a laid back ease. "But I guess if I wasn't I wouldn't have you in the first place right?"

Ava's mouth twitched slightly as she tried to force the corners of her mouth to say upturned. "Right," she muttered back.

Lindon grinned. Apparently, he was enjoying himself immensely. As the forest around them morphed into a small green village, he slipped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Village people around the pair snuck anxious glances at them as they passed. Even the peacekeepers seemed to straighten their backs slightly when they caught sight of the couple. Or maybe it would be more proper to say that they looked twice when they saw Lindon, because everyone knew that Ava had nothing to do with the nervous tension that the boy seemed to produce in the air.

* * *

Terra Oasis, 15 District 7

* * *

Terra looked over her reflection twice in the mirror, feeling depressed. If she got picked later that day, no one would remember her face. She was lucky that the local seamstress was feeling generous today, or else she probably wouldn't even have been able to show up to the reaping in a dress. Although, this one that sat on her frame like a wet rag was almost as bad as wearing no dress at all. At least she had time yesterday to take the hike to the local stream. The last thing she needed was to go to the reaping like she did last year- her face streaked with several days worth of dirt.

A knock on the door made her snap out of her solemn trance. "Someone's in here," she called out, leaning over and buckling her faded black dress shoes quickly before opening the bathroom door to exit. In the noisy hallway, a pretty brunette girl stood patiently leaning against a wall.

"Oh hi Terra," the girl said absently when she saw the other girl. "I didn't know that you were here."

Terra resisted the strong urge to blush. "Hi Ava," she replied averting her eyes. "I um, just finished eating, and was on my way out."

"Oh, well okay. Good luck later," the other girl said before disappearing into the restroom.

Terra sighed as she walked out of the hall into a noisy tavern area. She should have picked another public bathroom to go to. Not that it was any secret to her peers that she was homeless. It was just sort of embarrassing when one of her classmates caught her using a public bathroom to change cloths, and this tavern was always full of teenagers on reaping day. At least it Ava had the decency to pretend that she didn't know why Terra was really there. She was a nice girl.

As she headed towards the front door, Terra caught a glimpse of a bunch of kids she recognized from school over at a corner table. They were chatting at the moment, but her gut twisted at the thought of one of them noticing her. Hoping to avoid their line of sight, she put her head down and started walking fast. She didn't even notice when she practically barreled into some boy who was standing up from some table.

"Sorry," she muttered as she regained her footing, looking up to see who she'd just bumped into.

When her eyes met his face, her heart skipped a beat. "Oh Lindon, you must be here with Ava," she said, the words coming out too fast. She scratched at her elbow nervously. In the back of her mind she could feel a familiar force pull at her conscious, begging to be released.

The boy she'd bumped into smiled amiably at her, his dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes slightly. "Yeah, I thought I should buy her lunch today, you know, to be a good boy friend and all. She was feeling a little nervous about the reaping," he told her innocently. "Did you run into her back there? She said she was going to the bathroom a minute ago, but she's been taking a while. I was getting a little worried."

"Um, yeah. I was in there first, and there was a line, so she'll probably be back in a minute," Terra answered.

"Ah, okay," Lindon nodded sitting back down at his table. "You feeling okay? You look kind of pale." His eyes shined behind his glasses, filled with what looked like genuine concern; although, Terra seriously doubted that he actually cared.

"Um yeah, it's just the reaping. Everyone is nervous," Terra replied, looking for the first excuse that popped into her head. Of course, the reaping had nothing to do with anything right now.

"Glen's not bothering you again is he?" Lindon asked, his hands in his pockets as he raised an eyebrow with a cruel curiosity. Suddenly Terra felt like she was suffocating. In the back of her mind, the invisible force became acutely stronger, but she couldn't let him over take her now. It simply wasn't an option, not around Lindon.

"N-no, of course not," Terra replied, looking over her shoulder to make sure that no one had actually heard what Lindon had said. In front of her, Lindon seemed to be soaking in her discomfort, the shadow of some type of cruel pleasure gleaming in his eye.

Again she found herself wondering how Lindon even knew his name. Glen must have told him personally, because four years ago, Terra was the only person who knew about him. She shivered slightly thinking about the conversation that Lindon must have had with Glen. The two most vicious personalities in the District must have gotten along pretty well.

The tug in the back of her mind was getting stronger now. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before she lost control over it. She needed to get away from Lindon and fast. Thankfully she caught a glimpse of Ava walking back over from the bathroom. "Well, I don't want to impose on your date," Terra said, catching the girl's eye. In a matter of seconds, the two girls exchanged a feeling of common dread. Terra may not have known what Lindon was holding over Ava's head to get her to date him, but whatever it was, it must be pretty bad.

"See you around Terra, tell Glen I said hi," Lindon said giving her a nod.

Terra was out of the tavern a heartbeat later, her teeth digging into the side of her cheek, drawing blood, as she struggled very hard to retain what little control she had left.

* * *

Lindon Lizar, 15

* * *

Lindon kissed Ava one last time before walking over to his spot among the rest of the fifteen year olds his age. Lunch had been nice. He always enjoyed his run ins with Terra Oasis. The way she squirmed when he talked to her always was entertaining. And of course he always loved going into town with Ava. He liked it when other people saw him with her. It made him look infinitely cool. He knew the owner of the tavern too, which was nice. He had 'accidentally' had caught the man in an alley kissing the local butcher's wife. Ever since then he'd never paid for a meal when he went with Ava to the Tavern. Again, he thought it made him look cool.

He walked over to stand next to Birch Stevens, the boy who sat next to him in history class. "'Sup Birch," he asked smiling.

"Nothing much," Birch replied, shrugging. Lindon didn't like Birch very much. He was far too calm. Even if Lindon knew that the guy faked sick for two weeks last month to get out of work, Birch never seemed too nervous about it. Sure he clearly needed Lindon to keep his mouth shut about it, and had swore up and down he'd do anything to keep Lindon quiet. The thing was, Lindon preferred it when they got anxious around him. Birch's almost tranquil demeanor was obnoxious.

Up on stage the mayor had already started speaking. Lindon watched him with a false interest. Blinking a few times, he rubbed his eyes. His glasses were bugging him again. Probably because he didn't need them. The only reason he wore them was because he liked the feel they gave off. No one ever suspects the scrawny kid in the glasses to be up to anything.

Once the mayor was done with the usual blah, blah, blah speech, Athena Rocket stepped up to the microphone. She was wearing a low cut blouse and a skirt that showed off just a little bit too much of her rosy pink skin. "Hello there District 7. Are we ready to find out who will be this years tributes?" she said in her sugary voice.

Lindon groaned inwardly. Despite what one might assume, he actually despised the reapings as much as the next person. People were only good as long as they were reachable. What good is any secret if the owner has died? No good at all. Last year a girl two years older than Lindon got picked. When she was alive she used to spend a lot of hours in the black market, chugging down whiskey by the bottle. Her idiot parents were hopelessly ignorant of their daughter's problem. Lindon though was not. He had just found a good use to exercise his power over her too. He had found out that she had access to some fruit stores, and could've gotten him some apples to eat. Then of course she had to go and get reaped. All the time he had invested into getting those apples had gone to waste.

Up on the stage, Athena Rocket dipped her hand into the female tribute bowl.

"Terra Oasis," she called out, an almost sympathetic smile. Lindon frowned deeply. Well, this was unfortunate. He liked Terra far too much to want her to go die in the games. He looked through the crowd, searching for Terra's face. He found her quickly, as she was standing pretty close to where he had left Ava.

It only took one look at her face to see that she was terrified. She wasn't even up on stage and her hands were already quaking like leaves in the wind. He watched with the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth as the girl was practically carried up on stage by three peacekeepers. Shaking his head, he kicked himself. He should be optimistic, maybe she'll win. After all, while Terra might be weak, Glen most certainly was not.

Maybe this years games will even be interesting actually. Lindon had only met Glen once, but it only takes one time to make an impression. Needless to say when Terra nearly choked him to death in an alley five years ago, he had been shocked. Thankfully he had a quick tongue though, and he had talked the girl (or maybe he should say boy, Glen is a boy after all) down to a civil state. He hadn't even known about split personality disorder before then.

He was surprised that Terra's mind was still conscious actually. He had provoked Glen out of her twice in the past year, and you'd think that getting reaped for the Hunger Games would be more traumatizing than a few idol words. Glen always came out when Terra was overwhelmed after all. Maybe she was stronger than he had thought.

Athena Rocket swayed her hips as Terra was dropped onto her spot on the stage, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. "Boys next," Athena said smiling at the crowd as if Terra wasn't even there. She walked over to the boy's bowl and stirred the papers for a minute with her hand. Lindon held his breath as he wondered who would be next. Generally he always knew the two poor souls who got reaped. District Seven is a large one, but the population density is really low. Most of their land was just a never ending forest of un-chopped wood. There really was only one main town. Everybody knew each other.

Absently he silently hoped Birch would get picked. Maybe he wouldn't be so abnormally calm then.

"Lindon Lizar."

His breath stopped stale in his throat as he froze. Did he just hear her right? Did she just say his name? Yes, he was sure he did. For a moment, all he could feel was the unforgivable taste of utter terror rising in his gut, threatening to overwhelm him. But then, just as quickly as the fear had come, it evaporated. He shouldn't worry about this. He'd already put precautions in place. There were at least four kid's that had sworn up and down that they'd volunteer for him if he ever got picked. They were probably just waiting for Athena Rocket to ask for volunteers.

With the same confidence that all the reaped kids in the career Districts enjoyed, Lindon waltzed up to the stage, leaping up the two steps to move beside Terra. He nodded to the crowd as Athena Rocket returned to the microphone. "Well, does District 7 have its first volunteer?" she asked doubtfully.

Lindon looked across the crowd confidently, waiting for someone to jump forward. His eyes grazed lazily over two or three familiar faces. Why were they all avoiding eye contact?

Silence hung in the air. Bitter, hateful silence. Lindon felt lips part in disbelief. How dare they do this to him. How dare they leave him out here to die. They owed him. No, it was more than that. They belonged to him. They didn't get to decide that their lives were suddenly more important than his. Suddenly he was furious. If this weren't real life, he would have sworn that steam was blowing from his ears. Clenching his fist, he let his face morph, showing everyone across Panem his rage.

Without even thinking he lunged forward, shoving Athena Rocket out of the way. "Rodger Waterloo you dirty rotten ba-," he started fuming into the microphone. That was when the peacekeepers pulled him away from the microphone, easily forcing his weak body back into place.

"Ah, yes well, shake hands you two," Athena Rocket muttered, smoothing down her skimpy outfit and shooting Lindon an annoyed glance.

Lindon turned his hateful glare towards Terra. Her eyes were filled with unspeakable fear as she seemed to shrink under his gaze. At least he still had one person in his back pocket. Even in the capitol, away from all of those in District Seven, he would not be without his control.

* * *

Terra Oasis, 15

* * *

Terra sat in the middle of the floor in the justice building, rocking back in forth, her head between her knees. No one was coming. She had no family or friends. Not that she was thinking about that right now. You see, while she was acutely aware of the pang of loneliness that echoed in her gut, she also knew that she was not alone. Nothing had ever scared her more.

Every few seconds, the girl's soft hazel eyes went in and out of focus. She could feel her memory breaking. One minute she was aware of the room around her, then things went black, and then she was back again. The taste of blood had been in her mouth for at least twenty minutes now. She tried to stop biting her cheek, but when her control was this far gone, it was as if she had no other choice.

Then without warning her eyes went out of focus for an extended bit of time. For a solid minute, her body stopped rocking, her hands stopped shaking, even the girl's breathing seemed to cut off. When life returned to her face, something had changed. She had stopped quaking, and leaned back easily onto her hands, looking around the room as if confused.

Slowly she licked her lips taking inventory. "Where am I Terra?" she whispered quietly. Standing up, she walked over to the door, twisting the handle to go outside. When she saw the peacekeepers behind it, she reacted on instinct. Curling one hand into a fist, she swung, aiming low for the man's gut. She connected easily, as the peacekeeper had been caught off guard.

Twisting around she moved to sock the other guy, but he was prepared. With a gruesome spasm, her body crumpled to the floor as some type of rod plunged into her gut. With garbled furious speech, she shrieked, "Why? What did Terra do to you?"

The two men looked at each other confused. "Just stay quiet until the train comes. You'll be off to the capitol in no time," one of them mumbled.

Then it clicked. The Hunger Games. Terra had gotten reaped for the Hunger Games. As this realization penetrated the girl's mind, a wide smile stained with the blood from her bleeding lip stretched across her face. Oh yes, she was quite excited. What a stroke of luck! Laughing like a maniac, she walked back into the room, and sat down patiently on the coach. She, or rather he, knew Terra was probably terrified right now, but he wasn't. Glen knew nothing of the feeling of fear.

* * *

Lindon Lizar, 15

* * *

Lindon waited, his arms crossed and his face red with burning furry as his parents exited the room. It had taken every ounce of his self control to keep his usual innocent composure around his parents. They both were devastated of course as they said their good byes still completely ignorant of the boy's infamy among the District. Now that they were gone though, a second waiting period began.

This time though, he was waiting on everyone to come say goodbye, instead of on someone to volunteer. As time passed and the door remained shut, his now seemingly mild anger boiled down to a concentrated blind rage. Ava, his girlfriend of four entire months, didn't walk through the door. Tember Donaldson hasn't come to wish him good luck. Oakly Waterwood seemed to be choosing a strange time to ignore one of his closest friends.

Sure, Lindon always knew that all three of them wanted him gone. Avan had even tried to break up with him once. But he had their secrets in his palms, and they were stuck with him. They should at least have come to see their predicaments out to the end. What a lot of jerks they all were, leaving him alone like this to die.

Lindon's body quaked with rage as he sat there thinking about all of these betrayals. Well he would show them. He would go to the Hunger Games, and play all the other tributes like pieces in a very dangerous chess game. Because there simply was no other option, he would return, the crowned victor. Then they'll see who's laghing. When he returned, they would regret this.

* * *

**A/N: So there's D7. I'm happy to inform you that the blog has been completed. The link to the blog is:**

**fadingtodarknesshg. blogspot .com**

**(You've got to remove all the spaces in the URL).**

**I've removed the list of tributes and form from my profile page. The blog will function as the list now, and I'll be updating it as the story progresses. Let me know who stands out, and why! This is going to be an interesting games, may the odds be ever in your favorite's favor.**


	7. District 4: Broken

Kyla Brooke, 16, District 4

* * *

The television screen was the only light in the dark room. Two deep turquoise eyes stared blankly as the colors from the T.V. reflected in their depths. Caesar Flickerman was on screen, chatting amiably to the audience. It was part of the pre-game hype. Every year Caesar aired recaps of previous games to try and get the capitol excited for marking another victor in the books. She didn't know why she was forcing herself to watch this show right now, but all the same she followed the action in a ghostly trance.

On the screen three boys circled each other dangerously. A dark melody rumbled from the speakers as they held up their weapons. The sky had opened up, and was pouring buckets down onto the tributes. This was the final battle of these games- the climax of two slow bleeding weeks. The boy with the spear was the first to move. He had blonde hair that swung in wet clumps as the wind billowed around his body. Two sea green eyes seemed to glow on his face. His muscles rippled as he wielded the spear with a certain level of artistry only a career would have. He lunged for the boy to his right, who clearly didn't have the same finesse as him.

Something went wrong though. The other boy as from District Six. He wasn't a career, didn't have any training, yet he possessed an invaluable natural-born instinct. When he saw the blonde boy coming, his body just seemed to react. He swiveled around the spear and spun into an attack, lodging his knife into his attacker's neck. The blonde boy fell to his knees, blood gurgling in his throat. The third boy hadn't moved all this time. He was simply watching, waiting, probably hoping his two opponents would just kill each other, and he wouldn't have to do anything.

The sound of a loud cannon booming through the air unfroze the third boy. The blonde guy died, choking on his own blood. Kyla couldn't force herself to watch anymore as the District Six boy proceeded to use the fallen tribute's body as a shield before using his spear to skewer his final opponent, thereby crowning himself victor. She already knew the ending. She had seen it a million times. Still, she couldn't stop the tears from stinging her eyes.

"Get yourself together Kyla," she whispered to herself, her voice sounding broken and weak. She fell backwards into her bed, trying to control her breathing. Caesar Flickerman was still talking, going through the cleverness of the District Six victor. What a great idea it was that he use the body as a shield. The runner-up had been equipped with a sheaf of bow and arrows. Although he really had no idea how to use them, at such a close range, it would have been an easy kill. Not with the body as a shield though. Instead, the dead blonde boy got seven arrows plunged into the torso of his limp carcass, and the District Six boy saved himself.

Well great for him.

"Liam wouldn't have wanted you to cry for him like this," Kyla whispered. She shook her head. She kept telling herself that maybe if she watched his death one more time, she'd become numb and get over it, but no, every time she was left with this dreadful gut wrenching grief that raked over her heart. The Capitol idolized the victor of that year's games for his guts. Kyla just wished he could have saved her the agony of watching her brother's dead body be ravaged by seven arrows.

She sighed, letting the tears flow freely now. She told herself that she should sit back up and keep watching. She had two more videos to get through before the reaping. If she was going to stand a chance in the arena, she would have to overcome this horrible paralyzing fear that threatened to drown her every time she thought of the games. Her solution was to put herself through this mental torture - watching all three of their deaths over and over and over again, until she was numb.

It didn't really help though. The bloody scenes of their down falls haunted her every waking hour. She had seen them die so many times that it was all she ever saw. When she slept, she would find herself watching helplessly as her older brothers died. When she day dreamed, she'd catch her thoughts recalling the last moments of her best friend. It never ended. She had to get over it though. Why you might ask?

Because it was her turn this year. Despite their deaths, and her never-ending sea of grief for them. This year she would be volunteering. She had to be ready.

* * *

Foster Finner, 14, District 4

* * *

Foster kicked his feet up onto the kitchen table, leaning back as he stretched, a big yawn escaping his lips. Gosh he'd gotten up early. Was Paylor really that important that Foster was forced to loose an entire two hours of sleep for his farewell breakfast? Well, in his opinion the answer was no.

"Foster put your feet down," his mother snapped immediately, her beady eyes shooting daggers at him.

"Why yes oh all-powerful mother," the boy rolled his eyes, letting each foot fall to the floor with a heavy thump.

"Don't be fresh with me young man," the woman said sharply.

This time he listened, shutting his mouth before she decided to start throwing around punishments. He looked up wondering where his brother was anyway. Paylor should be down here by now. It shouldn't take two hours to get ready, even if he did have to get dressed up.

"Where is that boy?" his father asked as if reading Foster's mind. "Not staring at himself in the mirror again I hope." Foster laughed as he glanced over at his dad. The man was sneaking a piece of bacon off of the plate in the middle of the table a mischievous grin in his emerald eyes.

His mom was faster than him though, and the minute she saw her husband reaching, her hand was out, cracking like a whip. "We are waiting for Paylor," she practically barked at the man. He rolled his eyes, and pulled the woman into a confining hug.

"Come on hun, just one piece," he whispered into her ear, a contagious smile lighting up his face.

Foster wrinkled his nose. "Get a room," he moaned sinking low into his chair. His father snorted, trying very hard to suppress a smile. Foster himself, couldn't help grinning. His comment was pretty funny, although he'd come up with better more original things before. Unfortunately, his mother didn't think it was so funny.

"Foster!" the woman screeched, pushing her husband away and shooting him a hateful glare. "To your room. Now."

He sighed, standing up. She obviously wasn't done with him yet. If he had to guess, this little slip up probably meant that he wouldn't be spending so much as an hour outside of the Tribute Academy for the next month. Hopefully she just didn't take him out of real school this time. If he was stuck with all those uptight careers non stop for even a week, he'd go crazy.

As he climbed the steps towards his room, Paylor emerged from the bathroom. "Hey dude," Foster said absently as he passed. Paylor gave him his classic tough guy nod and continued down the stairs.

Hmmmm, well that was odd. Usually he knocked his shoulder into Foster or something. It wasn't like the two brothers hated each other or anything. Paylor was usually just a little cocky and liked to show off his superior fighting skills. Everyone in District Four expected him to win this year's games. Paylor was one of those career tributes that came just once in a generation. Foster was pretty convinced that he was the best swordsmen to ever step foot on earth.

It was something in his nod that seemed off though. It lacked the confidence his brother usually carried on his shoulder's like a privilege. And did was he seeing things, or did Paylor's face look kind of pale- like all the life had been drained out of it. He shrugged it off as he collapsed on his bed. It never occurred to him that Paylor might actually be a little nervous about his games. Huh, weird.

* * *

Kyla Brooke, 16

* * *

Kyla felt like the crowd around her was a huge rippling cage. Like the sea, it seemed alive with movement, each and every individual was just a little bit of a huge monstrous whole. Now that she had dived in, she was lost in it's depths. Closing her eyes she imagined she was in a happier place, on the beach maybe, by the real ocean. She felt the salty breeze in her hair, and the gritty clumps of wet sand in between her toes. In the ocean in front of her, three figures were swimming. There was a tall muscular boy, the very same that she had watched die on the television screen earlier. The second was a smaller boy who was splashing the first, his own brown hair was dripping wet. And then the third was a girl, her green eyes just watched amused as the two boys played.

Kyla sighed as she opened her eyes again, returning to the present. She'd like to think that they were in place like that, where they could swim all day forever under the warm sun.

Up on the stage, the mayor was speaking. As she stood there, mentally building herself up to the point where she'd walk up to the stage, volunteering, she sort of felt like she was preparing herself to make the dive, joining her two brothers and her best friend in her happy place by the ocean. Suicide by Hunger Games, surely there should be a term for it.

She had to volunteer though. She had long passed the point where she had the option to turn back. Her mom had even admitted to her that she regretted the day when they enrolled Liam, Poseidon, and Kyla in the Tribute Academy. The problem was the contract. You see, getting into the Academy was no simple ordeal. Everyone in the District wanted their kids training there. Therefore every year there was a drawing. If a family was chosen, they could send all, none, or some of their kids into the Academy. It was their choice. The only problem was that once you enrolled, there was on turning back. They had the volunteers meticulously planned out for the next ten years. To ensure that all those on the list followed through with their promises to volunteer, all future tributes signed a contract. If Kyla didn't volunteer, her family would owe the Academy a ridiculous sum of money that only a victor would really be able to pay. She signed the contract years ago, before Liam had died. Gosh she'd been so naïve.

At least she'd be the last one. When Poseidon died, in the final ten, her parents had taken Oceana out of training, just two months before she would have to sign the contract. She would be the last one in her family to die for these games.

On stage, Iris Siren swayed in front of the crowd. She blotted her eyes as she laughed at some bland joke. Kyla waited impatiently as the woman reached foward and pulled a name out of the bowl "Perl Danger," she read to the crowd. Kyla knew Perl. She was in her year.

About twenty feet to her right, the girl sighed and walked up onto the stage, waving to the crowd with an exaggerated eye roll. The only reason that she was so calm is because she thought Kyla would be volunteering. But Kyla was shaking violently now. Fear consumed her soul.

"Any volunteers?"

She should raise her hand now, say something clever. Her feet were frozen to the ground though. In her mind last years reaping was on re-run. She could see Marina raising her hand, calling out that she'd volunteer, then blowing a kiss to the camera. She was so confident, just like Perl was currently. Marina volunteered though. Perl at least had a reason to be confident.

The thing that finally set her in motion was the quick nervous look Oceana shot her from afar. She only caught a glance of the girl's sea green eyes, the same color as Liam's, but in that moment of contact, something good in her took over.

"I-I do. I volunteer," Kyla cried, springing forward like a mad girl. She ran full speed up stage as the crowd seemed to release a collective breath. She had them worried there for a minute.

"And your name dear?" Iris asked.

"Kyla Brooke."

"Oh! You are Liam and Poseidon's sister?" she inquired absolutely delighted. All Kyla could do was nod. What had she just gotten herself into?

* * *

Foster Finner, 14

* * *

Foster elbowed his friend Troy in the arm as Kyla Brooke volunteered. "There she is," he said pointing. For a minute they both thought she was going to chicken out. That's why they stuck her in the same Hunger Games with Paylor though. They figured that since Paylor was such a shoe in to win, they shouldn't waste a promising girl in his Games. No one would have been surprised if she didn't go through with it. They would have been furious sure, but not surprised.

"Dude she's hot," Troy responded immediately. Foster laughed.

"You think the wall is hot," he replied. Troy shook his head as he gave his friend a shove. Foster was about to trip him back- he always won these fights since Troy wasn't a career- when someone a few rows behind them made a hissed at them to cut it out.

"Hey, I was thinking we head over to the Academy later and do something. No one's going to be there because it's reaping day. Everything is going to be vulnerable," Foster mumbled quietly, an excited glint in his eye. "I was thinking that we go collect some seaweed and dump it in the trainer's office."

Troy nodded eagerly, immediately jumping on board. "We should get some fish too, they'll be smelling by tomorrow," he whispered.

The two didn't even realize that Iris Siren was reaching into the boy's bowl until her voice rang through the crowd. "Foster Finner," she called.

Foster looked up momentarily confused. Then he realized that he had just been picked. Immediately a wide grin stretched across his face. Only one thought was going through his head- right now, the entire nation was watching him. Might as well take advantage and embarrass his mother. "Oh. My. Gosh. It's it's like my wildest dreams have suddenly come true," Foster cried, barely holding in the laughter. As he skipped up to the stage, his various friends clapped him on the back, all of them snickering and laughing in some way shape or form.

When he got to the stage, he jumped up the steps, ran immediately over to Kyla, and enveloped the shaking girl into a big hug. She looked positively confused. Now he had the entire District smiling and laughing. With a wide lop-sided grin sitting contentedly on his face, he took his spot.

Searching around the crowd, it was easy to find Paylor. He was the only one in the eighteen year old section that wasn't talking to anyone. Really, Foster getting reaped couldn't have been better for Paylor. Before, his only angle was the tough guy. Not even the best mentor in the world could have made him look even the slightest bit compassionate. Now he could be the tough guy who had a heart because he volunteered to save his brother. It seemed like a pretty good deal to Foster.

Iris, who seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that Foster was joking when he skipped up to the stage, shot him a feverishly happy glance. "Well, I hate to take your dream away from you," she said, looking genuinely sorry for him. "But do I have any volunteers?"

Everyone in the District looked to Paylor, and waited. As the seconds ticked, Foster rolled his eyes, it would be just like his brother to make him sweat it out up here. More waiting. Foster found Paylor's face again, and looked him in the eye cautiously. Paylor was staring back at his brother as if in a trance. His face was as white as snow as his mouth hung open slightly.

"Ah," Iris said looking surprised. "It looks like you'll get to go into the arena after all Foster. How grand!"

"Paylor!" Foster choked out. Suddenly his brother unfroze, and upon realizing that his opportunity had just slipped by, tears welled up in his eyes.

"Foster," he cried. "Foster I'm sorry."

No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. Foster was supposed to have another four years before he had to go, and by that time his brother would have been a victor. If he wanted to drop out, Paylor could have paid the fee for breaking the contract. He wasn't supposed to be tied to these games the way a normal career was. But it didn't matter. His name was drawn in the reaping. He was going into the Hunger Games whether he liked it or not.

* * *

Kyla Brooke, 16

* * *

Kyla didn't bother holding back the tears as she cried into her parent's shoulders. Her mom even sobbed with her. "We love you, don't forget it," the woman said as they soaked each other's shirts with their tears. Her dad on the other hand was sitting on the coach beside her, his eyes a million miles away. He would not cry for her today, and maybe not even tomorrow. It was questionable if he even realized what was going on right now. He'd lost so much of himself when his eldest two sons died.

Kyla looked over her mom's shoulder at her four younger siblings. Only Oceana really knew what was going on the way her parents did. She was the only one that actually had solid tangible memories of Liam and Poseidon. In many ways Karissa, Aries, and Apollo were fortunate not to remember. They didn't hurt the way the rest of the family did.

"You're coming back," Oceana muttered, sounding only half way convinced. "You're a career and they always come back. And that Paylor guy didn't volunteer. Now you have a chance." Tears were in the girl's eyes as Kyla hugged her.

"I'll try," she muttered back to her quietly. She spent the final moments of her goodbye hugging her siblings. Maybe Oceana was right, she told herself. Maybe she'll actually make it back. Perhaps that was what it might take to heal her family.

* * *

Foster Finner, 14

* * *

Foster waited with his arms crossed as his parents entered the room. Unlike his district partner, he did not cry. He wasn't the crying type. In fact, if he looked past the demobilizing fear that buzzed through him like some kind of sick adrenaline, what he really felt was anger. He wanted so badly for Paylor to walk into the room. It would have been one thing if he had just decided not to volunteer, and he had given his family some warning. It wasn't like he was going to be sending them all onto the streets because he breached some sort of binding contract or anything right? Wrong. His parents would be homeless and drenched in debt if Foster didn't win. But at least if he'd talked to Foster about it beforehand, he would have been able to forgive his brother.

That wasn't how things went down though. Somehow the best student at the Academy didn't even have the guts to volunteer for his own, significantly less prepared brother. What a selfish coward. Foster had already said good-bye to Troy and a group of about seven other of his friends. He almost felt bad for Paylor because his brother would be getting no sympathy from anyone else in the district. Troy had made that very clear.

"Foster?" his father said finally after standing there for a minute. The man seemed like he was in some sort of daze as he stared at his youngest son. Well, probably only son now. No doubt Foster's mom had already filed the legal papers to disown Paylor.

"You look like you just saw mom skinny dipping in the ocean," Foster muttered shooting his dad a slight smile. If his dad wasn't going to lighten the mood in this stuffy room, someone had to.

"Foster," his mom snapped sharply. Surprise surprise, the edge in her voice hadn't softened even the slightest now that he was going to be in the games four years early. She was still just as stern as ever. "You have to be serious now. No more joking around. Now you have to win. We need you to bring glory to family name."

Foster had never wanted to slap someone so bad in his life.

Still, he resisted. He knew all too well that his mother was a twisted jealous person. She never could get over the fact that her sister was a victor, and she was not. Now she had to live through her two sons because she was an old hag and couldn't enter the games herself anymore. At least he would get to spend the last month of his life with his Aunt. She was really great to Foster growing up, and if she was going to be the last bit of family he saw before he died, that wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"I love you dad," he said hugging his father one last time before the peacekeepers came in to escort his parents out.

A few minutes later the peacekeepers returned, telling him that it was time to go to the train. Paylor didn't even muster up the courage to come and say good-bye to him. Foster shook his head, his face a mask of fear, anger, and pain. There was nothing he could do about it now though. He was too late. Everything was just coming together too late.

* * *

**A/N: Here's the latest chapter. Notice how this one took a little longer to get out? I think I'm slowing down a bit with the writing. Just a heads up- expect slower updates in the future. Not too much slower of course. Maybe just like once a week as opposed to every day. But any way, hoped you liked this chapter. I actually had a bit of a struggle writing sane tributes after the last chapter, haha. Hope you liked them though. Let me know what you think. ****  
**


	8. District 12: Getting the Attention

Eshad Fuele, 13, District 12

* * *

The boy watched out the window absently. On the street, several little kids were running around shirtless playing with a ball. Their faces were alight with a childlike joy as they ran, giggling with delight as the slipped in piles of mud, their little bodies practically covered with the brown much. He rolled his eyes at his neighbors. They were such babies, playing in mud. When he was their age, all the cool kids used to go to the school and climb on the big tree around the back until the peacekeepers shooed them off. That's what those kids should be doing, not playing some silly baby game.

"Eshad? Are you all dressed?" a high pitched female voice echoed against the shoddy wooden walls.

"Stop nagging," Eshad groaned before standing up and walking into the other room. His mother was upon him in seconds, straightening his shirt, and smoothing down his brown hair. "Mom stop it, I like it when it's sticking up, it looks cool." His mother sighed. It wasn't like she would have been able to make it sit flat anyway.

"I think you look adorable baby," she said once she finished fixing his inadequate job of dressing himself. Immediately, the boy went bright red. He messed up his newly flattened shirt, and pulled at one of his shoe laces, so that he didn't look so proper.

"I don't want to look cute," he whined.

"Oh you don't know what you're talking abo-" his mother began, as she made to fix her son's outfit again. Before she got the chance to though, he wormed away from her, and dashed out the door onto the street. She didn't understand. If he showed up to the reaping like that, people would think he was a mama's boy, and he wasn't. He was cool.

In his haste, stepped onto his now loose shoe lace, almost tripping into the very kids he had been mentally criticizing earlier. The giggled at him as he recovered himself. Runts. They didn't know who they were laughing at.

Glancing at the sky, he judged the time to be about eleven o'clock. That meant he had two hours now before he had to go to the reaping. Two free hours...

He knew exactly where he was going before the thought had even completely processed. Trotting down the street, Eshad made his way away from the Seam and into the town. The streets were teeming with peacekeepers who were all preparing for the upcoming reaping, but they paid him no attention, not even when he walked straight into the District's black market, the Hob.

In the corner, some woman hissed at him. "Boy, what are you doing around here? We told you to get out," she screeched. He ignored her though. She would leave him alone once he found... Ah, there they were. Sitting in the corner, trying to barter with one of the dealers was two boys. One had ashy blonde hair, a thin frame, and dark brown eyes, while the other had dark brown Seam hair with bright blue eyes. Both had the pale skin that most of the shop owner's children had.

"Nan," Eshad called jogging over to the two boys. The blonde one turned his head, his shoulders rising and falling in a deep sigh.

"What do you want Eshad," the blonde boy, Nan, asked.

"Didn't we tell you to go away after you pushed Asher at school?" the other one said rather aggressively.

Eshad rolled his eyes and punched the brown-haired guy in the arm in a good-natured way. "Aw, I knew you were just doing that because the teachers were around. You don't have to pretend to be mad at me anymore," he said.

"We weren't pretending," Nan cut in, looking annoyed. He glanced over at the man he was bartering with and shook his head. "You know what? I think Wekler is by the goat man. Goats are way cool. Why don't you go talk to him. You know he was looking for you earlier."

"Oh yeah?" Eshad said with a perky tilt of the head. Well, he did have time to kill. "Well I'll see you guys around then."

As the boy strutted out of the hob, Nan and his friend rolled their eyes. "Think he'll ever get a clue?" the brown-haired boy asked.

"Probably not," Nan shrugged. Then the two boys got back to bartering, grinning mischievously at each other as they thought about how mad their mothers would be if they got caught.

* * *

Cassia Greene, 17, District 12

* * *

The vine snaked up the wall, running through various crevices, and slowly grinding through old cement. It stuck to the dilapidated structure as if by a natural glue. The web of organic threads was ingrained into the synthetic building. The green blanket it provided the little house made the wall all but disappear into the surrounding mesh of organized greenery.

The vine itself was quite pretty. It's leaves fanned out in the summer, and turned red in the fall. In the spring, petite blossoms opened up into big deep pink flowers. Perhaps that was the reason it had not yet been killed off. It did increase the aesthetic appeal of the slum it grew on immensely. Ah, but wait.

Walking out of the slum, a girl with olive toned skin and a rounded baby face studied the plant. Thoughtfully she walked over to it, and gave it a little tug. As always, the vine clung to the house, refusing to be removed. The girl's face twisted into a scowl as she examined the vine. Clearly she'd been through this routine several times. She already seemed to be familiar with the exact places where the vine had the firmest grasp on the wall. As the girl had doubtlessly done before though, she turned away, apparently deciding to salvage its life.

Reaching down, she plucked a leaf from another plant that grew at the base of the vine, and placed it on her tongue, chewing on it as she turned to go. It was at this exact moment when she noticed it. In the place where the vine began to twist around to the front yard, a small tendril, probably only a day old, reached outwards in the direction of her berry bush. It had not yet reached the bush, but in a day, maybe two, it would. Then the vine would begin to strangle the bush the very same way it was strangling the girl's house.

Immediately the girl barged around front, and came out wielding a curved machete, the blade itself slightly dulled from years of use. Scowling the entire time, the girl began to violently hack at the entire vine, pealing it away from the wall where it had made its home. Little pebbles rolled down the wall as the plant's tendrils brought bits of cement down with it. In a matter of minutes, the entire vine had been removed, revealing a damaged wooden slum, caked on the outside with now damaged concrete. It looked so much more pitiful without the vine camouflaging it.

She sighed, the scowl still cutting into her features. Stupid vine, she thought. She should have destroyed it the minute the buds started inching its way up her home. Now look at all the damage it's done. At least her garden was untouched though. She could fix the house, but if the garden went. Well then she might not be around to be able to do any fixing.

Checking the sky, Cassia groaned. Great, only an hour. She had an hour until the reaping, and now she had gone and gotten herself all dirty. Well isn't that just swell?

Retreating back into her house, she made her way to the bucket of clean water she kept beside her bed, so that she could clean off.

* * *

Eshad Fuele, 13

* * *

Eshad's head bobbed just above the crowd as he examined each face. Somehow he had maintained his 'effortlessly mess' look for an entire two hours, even though he had trekked half way around the District and back, looking for Wekler. He never was able to find him. Although, Eshad had put it off to a miscommunication. Weckler had probably left the goat man already by the time Nan had directed him to go there. Nan of course wouldn't have known, as he had been busy bartering in the Hob against his mom's orders. It made sense.

The reaping was practically starting when Eshad noticed Nan's blonde head entering the crowd of thirteen year olds. "Nan," he immediately called out raising his hand up and waving. Then upon realizing that waving was decidedly not cool, he stopped abruptly, and approached Nan, the brown-haired boy, and a third lanky boy who Eshad knew to be Weckler. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked, making sure that every step he took was stuffed with immense swagger.

Although Eshad couldn't hear Nan, as he was too far away, the minute the blonde boy saw Eshad, an overly exaggerated groan slipped his lips.

"Dude, I couldn't find you earlier," Eshad said to Weckler, as he caught up with the three boys.

"Isn't that weird," Weckler mumbled rolling his eyes, a bitter expression plastered across his face. "It couldn't have been because I was avoiding you could it have been?"

Eshad was taken a back. He'd hung out with the other three boys countless times, and never have any of them been so blunt. "What's your problem dude?" he said looking offended.

Weckler's eyebrows drew together in anger. "My problem? I wasn't the one who pushed Asher Turlington into a mud puddle after school because he wasn't "cool". I'm not the one who disses all the seam kids even though I'm clearly one of them. I'm not the one who has been hitting on Brooke Cryer since for two years even though she's asked me to stop harassing her. Nan and Kolton are just too nice to actually say it to your face. Go bother someone else Eshad," Weckler cried throwing his hands into the air.

Eshad's mouth hung open for a solid minute before he could even begin to process what Weckler had just said. Once it did process though, the scene that followed wasn't pretty. "You're just too much of a dweeb for me," he burst out, poking Weckler very hard in the chest with a scrawny finger. "Have fun being a nobody forever."

With that, Eshad spun around and stormed back to the place he was originally standing, leaving Weckler, Nan, and Kolton in the dust. Just in time too because on stage, the mayor was just finishing up his speech.

* * *

Cassia Greene, 17

* * *

Cassia walked down the street to the reaping just behind one of the families from the Seam. It was a father, mother, and two daughters, all of them looking quite content. The oldest girl who looked to be about ten or so, was dressed up, but judging by the families' manner, she wasn't of reaping age yet. Her hand was wrapped innocently around her father's swinging back and forth as they walked. As they drew closer into town, they passed another family who's eldest daughter was crying hysterically.

"Daddy why is she so sad?" the youngest of the two girls asked.

The man looked over, at sobbing kid, a sad gleam in his eyes. "I told you about the Hunger Games last night remember?" the man said. The little blonde girl's eyebrows knit unhappily.

"She's not going to get picked right?" she asked.

"I'm sure she won't," the man responded. "Little girls are almost never picked."

"I'm not going to be picked when I'm twelve right Daddy?" the blonde girl asked.

"Of course not little Prim," the man said, releasing his older daughter's hand and putting the younger one on his shoulders.

"And if you were, I'd be old enough to go hunt all the bad guys in the capitol for you Prim," the older one said suddenly. The mother immediately came to a quick holt and started reprimanding the girl, a look of fear deep in her eyes. Then just as the girl's lip started to quake, the man stepped in, and started ushering his family along, singing the girl a song to make her feel better.

Cassia felt a pang of sad lounging hit her chest as she turned a corner, heading to the peacekeeper check in. Those two little girls were lucky to have such a nice father. She wished she had luck like them. What it must be like to have a family. It had been so long since her mother died, she was having a hard time remembering what it felt like. Of course, her father was still alive, but he was nothing like that man she'd just seen. Her father was a rich greedy self-absorbed jerk who was too concerned about his reputation that he wouldn't even admit that Cassia was his daughter. That's life though. There is no such thing as real happiness, and when it does exist on rare occasions, it never lasts long. Cassia almost felt herself worrying about that family. How long did they have until tragedy would hit them?

She shook her head, now was not the time to be worrying about strangers.

Walking over to her spot among the seventeen year olds, Cassia began the small wait for things to begin getting under way. The mayor started speaking before long, going over all the standard history of the games. About half way though his speech, Burnet Howett was rolled onto the stage. Cassia was surprised that he showed up at all. District Twelve only ever had two victors, but pretty soon she was sure that Burnet was going to die. He had been slowing down for ages, but over the past year he'd been plagued with a lot of health issues. The doctors were doing the best that they could to keep him alive, but it was only a matter of time before Haymitch Abernathy was they only victor District Twelve had left. And when that happened, all the District would be able to do was pray for their hopeless tributes. At least Burnet was a decent mentor. Once he was gone though, District Twelve was screwed.

Effie Trinket waltzed to the microphone once the mayor was done speaking, and gave her customary introductions. Then finally she topped it off with her customary: "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

Cassia scowled as the capitol accent echoed. Effie Trinket was possibly the biggest airhead that Cassia had ever met.

"Ladies first shall we?" Effie said, reaching into the bowl and plucking a name out.

"Cassia Greene," she called.

Cassia felt her body go rigid, and her jaw drop. No. She'd already had too much crap in her life to deserve this. Those two little girls from earlier, the ones who had a family and knew happiness, they deserved this, not Cassia who had lost her mother, hated her father, and been living on her own for years. She had paid too much in this lifetime already. This was just one tragedy too far.

When the peacekeepers came to escort her upstage, she struggled. She aimed her elbows for their guts, and tried to escape. It was pointless though. By the time she was brought up on stage, she was bruised and sobbing.

"Ah, yes, well, on to the boys," Effie Trinket said cheerily, shooting a judgmental glance in Cassia's direction. "Eshad Fuele."

Some scrawny boy among the really young kids made a strangling noise as everyone turned to look at him. Cassia groaned inwardly. She recognized the kid. He tried to kiss her as some kind of dare or something last year to impress the other kids his age. No body actually liked him. He was annoying and obnoxious.

Despite how annoying he was though, his composure was admirable. Unlike Cassia, there was no sobbing and flailing. He simply tried to mask the horrified expression, and jogged up to the stage in a relatively calm manner. Once up there, he even winked at Effie Trinket, which undoubtably had the capitol citizens all delighted. Well Cassia didn't need them to like her. She most certainly didn't like them. She would win these games on her own, the way things had always been.

Or at least, she hoped so.

* * *

**A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter, I figured these tributes didn't need to have justice building scenes because really it was just Eshad's mom who would have been saying good bye. I'm trying to make some of these a little shorter, because if I keep writing 4000 words for each reaping, this will be novel length before I'm even to the eleventh reaping. Although, I'm really not good at keeping things short. Ah well. Hope you liked this chapter :) We are half way through the reapings now!**


	9. District 8: Social Status

Colleen Reyna, 16, District 8

* * *

District Eight didn't have slums. If a family couldn't afford anything respectable, they were given a small one room box of an apartment in the East end of their industrial city. Too many people resided among the stacked box homes in the East End. It was to the point that over half the district resided the small shoe box apartments. Hundreds of hundreds of residents starved to death in those apartments. They worked more hours than was legal, pillaged empty garbage bins in the streets, took out bucketfuls of terasea, all for a little nimble to eat, and yet all for nothing.

It was in one of these dingy apartments that Colleen Reyna sat, smearing a yellow substance onto the wall with one of her fingers. Her blonde eyebrows were knit together in extreme concentration as she deliberately curved her finger in a flawless crescent shape. Small beads of sweat were growing on her temples, running down her face and taking some dirt with them. Pausing for just a moment to examine the figure, she picked up a broken glass jar from the floor and dipped her previously clean pinky into the deep red liquid that it contained. She moved to swirl it onto the wall, an extension of the lone yellow crescent, when there was a thumping knock at the flimsy front door.

"Who is it?" she asked, not moving away from her wall canvas. She slathered the red on as the visitor responded.

"It's your favorite harmonica player. Can I come in Lena?" a jovial voice sang back.

"Yeah sure," she responded, a grin already stretching across her face.

The door swung open revealing a lanky young man, who was covered from head to toe in a powdery black soot. Colleen was expecting him of course. Calico Burns was her only friend in the entire district. On a normal day, his hair would be a dark brown, his skin would be a pale white, and his cloths would be some sort of bright happy color. Today however, he left a trail of black footprints every where he walked.

"I thought I asked for a jar of black dye," Colleen said.

"Yes well, I couldn't find black dye, but we have a surplus of ash by the peacekeeper factory furnace," he responded grinning. His white teeth practically glowed when contrasted with the dark ash he was covered in.

"The reapings are in three hours, you'll never get yourself clean in time," she pointed out.

"I think it'd be fun explaining to Panem how exactly I ended up covered in black soot on reaping day. If I get picked, I think I'll even give good old Persephone a big hug, she'd love that," Calilco said, giving an exaggerated nod. Some of the ash floated down off his head, like black dandruff in the wind.

"Anyway, what about you? That textile dye isn't going to come off in an hour. If you get picked you're going to have some explaining to do too," he went on pointing to Colleen's hands.

"Come here," Colleen said motioning him over and rolling her eyes. It was unusal for her to feel confident on reaping day; however, her older brother got a full time job last year, so she was able to put in for half the amount of tesserae for this reaping. It was a small glimmer of hope in a black hole of lost dreams, but she clung to it with unyielding claws. It was perhaps the one thing that had gone her way this year.

Calico bobbed over beside her, and put his arms out, producing a cloud of ash with every movement. "Calico the easel at your service," he said.

Colleen used two of her clean fingers to take a huge swab of black off of Calico's arm, and moved to continue her painting. Before long she had slipped back into her creative place, where she and her canvas were the only two things that existed. Within a half an hour, the grey wall had been transformed into a swirl of reds, yellows, and oranges with hints of shadowy black accenting the fiery scene.

All the while Calico watched from beside her, just as absorbed in her motions as she was in her painting. When she finished, a grin was stretched across his face.

"You going to tell me what it is, or am I guessing?" he asked.

"It's the sky," she told him. "Or how the sky is supposed to look when there isn't so much factory grime in the air."

"Really? I've been told the sky is blue," he responded amiably.

Colleen shrugged him off as she stood back, admiring her work. Her family would be in for a delighted surprise later. After Emmy got over her initial anger about the complete mess Colleen had made that is.

"I've got to go clean myself off," Calico finally said, a regretful frown already on his face.

"Alright, I should wash up too," Colleen replied looking down at her stained hands. They were almost more colorful than the wall.

"Alright, see you at the reaping," he called as he disappeared through the doorway.

"See you at the reaping," she muttered back.

* * *

Raven Textan, 17, District 8

* * *

The quiet hum of the printer spitting out sheet after sheet of paper hummed in the background as the handsome teenage boy straightened his jacket in the mirror. His azure colored eyes critically examined his appearance, picking apart each aspect of his outfit- the black sports coat, the navy dress shirt, his carefully spiked blonde hair- before he deemed himself presentable. Appearances were incredibly important in his line of work. As his father would say, if you want to talk business, then look business.

Behind him the printer let out a high pitched beep, and Raven stepped away from the mirror on the wall in his room. Gathering up the stack of crisp white fliers in his arms, he headed down the stairs into the kitchen. As usual, the large three-story house sounded deserted when he plopped the stack of papers onto the counter top so he could make himself breakfast. Absently, he started going through the cabinet, taking out the coffee beans, and starting up the old fashioned coffee maker. They owned a special coffee express machine from the capitol, but nothing tasted quite as rich as the kind he brewed personally.

He didn't even notice that he was no longer alone when a gruff low grunt sounded behind him. Raven looked over his shoulder to find his father sitting at the kitchen table, his fingers playing with an expensive looking tablet. The man was the spitting image of his son with carefully combed blonde hair, and identical blue eyes. At the moment, he appeared to be half way through his morning dressing process as his faint five o' clock shadow had yet to be shaven off, his dress coat was nowhere in sight, and his tie hung loosely around his neck.

"Mourning," Raven said as he waited for his coffee to brew. The man looked up from his tablet and over his thick reading glasses at his son, grunting again. Raven smiled at the man; this was his way of saying hello. "Do you have any special duties or anything today because of the reaping?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

Sighing, Raven's father put down his tablet and shook his head. "The mayor gave me the day off," he replied, a deep frown cutting into his face. "No one to communicate with when everyone is watching the reapings."

"At least you're getting a break right? You should have slept in today and taken advantage of it," Raven said. Beside him the coffee maker made a spattering sound, and he moved to take the cup off the burner.

"Give me a cup," Raven's father muttered, returning his eyes to his tablet as the mechanism buzzed.

"Anything in it?"

"Black."

Raven poured the man a cup, and walked over to the table to sit with him. It was really a wonder how his Garland Textan became the Head Communications and Business Representative for District 8. He really wasn't a talkative, or even a likable guy, the exact opposite of his son. Nevertheless, he was good at what he did, and brought home with him buckets of money because it was so essential for the District to have someone looking over the production value of all the textile factories for the Capitol. Raven did wish that he was home more often though. Even if he wasn't that much company, mornings like this, when there was someone home to drink coffee with, were nice.

The conversation dropped off for a little while as Garland did not like talking while he drank his coffee. Then suddenly, the man caught a glimpse at the fliers on the counter.

"What are those for?" he grumbled as he sipped from his cup.

Raven smiled as he reached for one and handed it to his dad. "I'm running a sports night at school. You know most kids around here don't get any exercise because they are all cooped up in their houses in the East End, or working all night in factories. I thought it would be good if we hosted an event to get people to let loose you know. Maybe you should tell some of your co-workers about it. If someone sponsored us it'd do wonders for their public relations image," Raven explained. Garland raised a skeptical eyebrow as he examined the paper.

"Didn't I pay for your last school event?" he asked.

"Yes, and I know that it would be unfair of me to ask you to give more at the moment," Raven replied without hesitation, making sure he hit all the right buzz words. "I'm sure some of your friends would be more than happy to help out with the event. Anyway, everyone is going to need something to lift their spirits after the Games."

"Watch your mouth," Garland said casting his son a warning glance. "Boy, talking about the Games that way will get you no where with my co-workers."

"Yes sir," Raven muttered looking at the ground as he mentally chastised himself for bringing up his opinion of the games. He knew better than that. Those few wrong words might have just ruined his chances for gaining the few hundred dollars he needed if he wanted to provide food for the event.

Garland's demeanor softened as Raven appeared to him, genuinely remorseful. "I'll see what I can get them to do for you," he muttered returning to his coffee.

Raven flashed his teeth triumphantly. "You won't regret it," he told his father, emulating the perfect politician.

* * *

Colleen Reyna, 16

* * *

Colleen stared at a stray piece of string on the ground as the other teenagers began to fill the square. Her nerves had kicked in about twenty minutes ago when she was standing in line with her two older sister Emmy. They had walked here with her two brothers- Austin who was now too old to get reaped, and Dustin who was too young- and the minute they had left, Colleen had begun to feel the nerves creep into her. When her sister left her alone to go join the eighteen year olds, they had begun to overwhelm her.

Of course, not all of the nerves were about the reaping. Part of it was the herd of other girls her age that she was surrounded by. Every time she looked up and caught one of their eyes, she couldn't help but wonder why they were staring at her. It was no secret that she was the weird girl in the grade, but they should at least have the decency not to stare at her. Her insides twisted self-consciously.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to play around with textile dye before the reaping. In the process of cleaning herself off, she had gotten some on her face, and now she had a faded patch of orange stained onto her cheek. That was probably what they were all staring at.

She wished desperately that Calico were with her. Somehow, she felt infinitely less awkward when he was around. Probably because he was even more ostracized than she was. That was his own fault though. It was the boy's goal in life to be a non-conformists, and having conventional friends was too normal for him. He acted overtly weird around their classmates on purpose.

On stage the mayor wrapped up his speech, and District Eight's escort stepped up to the microphone. She looked even more perky than normal; however, everyone knew it was just for the camera. Last year she had said some very negative things about District Eight just after the reaping ended. She didn't realize the microphone hadn't been turned off until it was too late. Everyone in the square had heard her loud and clear.

"Oh hello friends," Persephone smiled to everyone. Colleen wondered how she had missed the odd pull of the women's mouth when she smiled and the almost malicious glint in her eyes in the past fifteen reapings. Now that she was looking for the hate, it was almost impossible to miss. After giving a long yet clearly sarcastic speech about how she was so honored to be back this year, she went over to the girl's ball.

"Colleen Reyna."

She froze, paralyzed with unutterable fear. She had gone over the scenarios before. When your name was in the ball as many times as her's was, getting reaped is a very real possibility. In her minds eye a previous stray thought briefly entered her mind. She pictured herself walking up there with confidence that Lea Paylor, one of District Eight's more recent victors, would be proud of. She would be serious, of course, but it would be mostly for the audience's sake. She felt her mind screaming at her to move, to be the girl she had once imagined in her head during an idle conversation with Emmy.

That girl did not exist though.

Colleen was not confident, not in front of anyone outside of her family and Calico. She was not brave. Most of the time she wasn't even all that serious. No matter how much her mind cried for her body to move. There was no way to make it listen. Her mind shrieked and shrieked and shrieked, but there was no change. Every one of her joints had locked in place, unwilling to move.

Around her, the mutters of her peers became a background noise to the silence of the square. The crowd parted in front of her as people recognized her and made room for her to walk up to stage. Several sympathetic glances were cast her way, although there were just as many that were littered with silent relief and dare she admit it, joy. Someone had to get picked every year, and as far as her class mates were concerned, why shouldn't it be the wierd quiet girl that no one liked? No body would miss her.

She didn't even notice when her legs gave out. She was too busy with the feeling of hot water running down her face, the taste of salt water on her tongue. No wail or sob passed through her lips. She just cowered there on the ground, weeping, forever silent.

* * *

Raven Textan, 17

* * *

It took all the self control Raven possessed to contain his anger as he watched the peacekeepers drag the girl up to the stage. This entire process was so wrong. He knew who Colleen Reyna was, of course, it was his job as the school's student representative to know every face. She of all people didn't deserve this. Her family had gone through enough three years ago when her father passed away.

All the same, he was supposed to set an example for his classmates. If he let his face melt into an expression of irate fury, things could turn bad. Lesser things have incited riots in District Eight. So he simply crossed his muscular arms, and watched her be pulled up to Persephone, a look of pity echoing in his features.

"Ah yes, well, onto the boys," Persephone said, looking at Colleen with a mixture of disgust and false cheer.

"Raven Textan."

His mouth dropped open in shock as he stared at the women who no longer seemed to have a face in his mind. He had his name in the ball exactly six times, and had never taken any tesserae. Not once had he ever even considered that he would get picked. He had always been far too busy to worry about stupid things like his chances of getting picked for the Games. Instead he had always just watched from a distance and boiled over other's pain, never his pain.

People noticed him much faster than they did the girl. He was much more well known. The feeling of two peacekeepers at his elbows unfroze him, and he was half dragged up to the stage.

He didn't cry though. His poker politician face had come out the minute Persephone had called his name. Stepping up next to Colleen willingly, he held out his hand. He didn't want to wait for the escort, their escort, to ask him to do it. He wanted to show her that he was going to show her that he was going to be her friend, not that he respected her a as a competitor.

Colleen stared at his outstretched hand for several seconds before cautiously taking it. He reached out with his other hand shook her's with both of his in the same way that President Snow would on the television when he was out saying hi to the citizens.

Inside the terror ate away at him. He was now facing almost certain death, and there was nothing he could do. He wouldn't show his district this weakness though.

After all, he planned on going out with a bang.

* * *

Colleen Reyna, 16

* * *

Colleen cried in her older brother's arms, her body shaking weakly. The noise was coming out of her sobs now, and she didn't sound pretty.

"It's going to be okay Lena. You're coming back," Austin said his voice cracking. She didn't respond. Her voice had deserted her a long time ago.

"Where's Lena going?" Dustin complained from the ground, crossing his little arms. His boyish features pulled into an annoyed pout. "I don't want her to go anywhere."

"Remember Dustin. I told you about the games this morning," Emmy whispered into his ear. She was holding him because he refused to be put down. Colleen was happy she had made that painting now. At least when she was gone, they'd have something to remember her by, her mother especially. She wished the woman was here now to say goodbye, but there was no getting off of work, not even for the reaping.

"Times up," the peacekeeper said from the door. She wailed as Austin was ripped away from her, leaving her alone in the corner, crying to herself. That was it, the last person she'd see from home before she died.

Then suddenly the door opened again and Calico stepped in, his eyes already red, like he'd been crying. The look of him in agony ripped her out of her sobs so quickly that hic ups started to bubble through her lungs. There was no world in which she equated Calico with sadness. He wasn't supposed to be capable of crying.

"Hey," she said, finding her voice for her best friend. His face twisted in helpless despair.

"I wish I could have volunteered for you," he said weakly.

She laughed because someone had to. "I'm sorry you didn't have the chance to hug Persephone," she said half heartedly. Still the smile didn't stretch onto his face. Her heart squeezed. This couldn't be her last memory of him. She had to see him smile one last time. He didn't even have the strength to respond to her.

She stared into his uncharacteristically green eyes, and he stared back. Then suddenly, he moved forward, and his lips crushed into hers. At first she went rigid almost more shocked than she had been when her name was drawn. But all the same she didn't pull away. Her hands moved on their own accord, reaching up and gently resting on his cheeks. His cheeks were cold and wet under her palms.

When he pulled away, she could see her best friend back in his eyes. "I.. you just had to know," he said hoarsely.

Her heart dropped knowing this was goodbye. "Maybe I always did."

"Come back Lena okay?" he muttered.

Thinking of her father, of his last words, she shook her head. "You know I can't say that," she whispered crying again. His face looked ashen with grief.

"I know."

* * *

Raven Textan, 17

* * *

Raven paced back and forth in the Justice Building, waiting impatiently for his father to come in. Now that he was away from the prying eyes of the public, the calm facade had vanished, and his real feelings were beginning to come out. He ran his hands through his hair nervously. Where was his father?

The door opened, and Raven turned to find not his father, but a petite woman with long washed out blonde hair that fell down to her shoulders. Raven felt the color drain out of his face. He was not expecting his mother to come say goodbye.

"Mom?" he gaped.

Her face twisted into a bitter frown. "Don't look so surprised. We both know I'm not here out of compassion," she snapped her harsh features becoming harder.

"Why are you here then?" Raven inquired his brows drawing together confused. "If you want me to apologize, I do. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I was nine years old though, and dad promised me that I wouldn't starve. You can't blame me for that."

"Shut up. You sound just like your father when you say that. I can never tell when either of you are being genuine," she muttered her eyes narrowing. Raven sighed, sensing that he was at a loss. For the longest time she just stared at him, her eyes shifting between a soft motherly look that he associated with his two estranged brothers, and a hard one that seemed to be specially reserved for his father and himself. Glancing at the clock, he saw that their time was running out.

"Goodbye mom," he said, stepping forward boldly and embracing the woman. "Tell Jax and Yeuton that I said good bye to them too." He paused. "I love you," he tried weakly.

Something in the woman's expression melted. "Bye," she whispered.

She was gone a moment later.

The door opened again, this time it was his father. The man had never looked more disheveled. His hair was all out of place, and his tie was crooked. His hands were even shaking a little.

"Was that your mom?" he asked hoarsely. Raven nodded, shrugging because there was no explaining whatever had just happened. Garland swallowed hard, a tear actually leaking out of his eye. "You just be yourself and you can win. The Capitol people, they'll love you, trust me."

Raven nodded, feeling his throat swelling slightly. "Yeah I know," he said.

Garland stepped forward and embraced Raven- a sign of affection that the man did not throw around lightly. "I'm proud of you boy," he breathed. "Thanks for sticking with your old man. I know I didn't deserve it."

For a second all the regret that had pent up inside of Raven vanished. When his parents split up he picked his father because he had nice things. About four years ago the guilt had started to eat at him because his mother and two brothers clearly needed him more. But maybe he was wrong. Looking at the broken man in front of him for the first time he realized it: maybe his father needed him too.

* * *

**A/N: Here's the latest chapter. Just and FYI, I put Ajax's profile up on the blog along with all the tributes. Hope you liked Colleen and Raven, I tried making this chapter shorter but it didn't work. Only five more districts to go!**


	10. District 3: Chances

Leighton Blitz, 15, District 3

* * *

A gaunt boy with dingy black hair walked through the alley way, his hands thrust into his pockets. Two huge shiney buildings jutted upwards around him, reaching for the sky. The ground that the boy stared at with his watery blue eyes was pristine. Not so much as a speck of dirt was on the sleek pavement as he plodded through. An empty can jingled at his feet as he kicked it a few feet ahead of him, walked back up to it, and kicked it again. The can was the only sign of litter anywhere near him.

The boy continued, falling into the pattern of the activity. Walk forward, kick, walk forward, kick. As he neared the end of the alley, he swung his knobby leg backwards and put some effort into his next swing. The can tumbled forward, a good fifteen feet ahead of him before stopping. He moseyed to it's new position, but just as he arrived beside it, a suctioning sound began to erupt from the ground. The cobble stone that the can had landed on sank lower and lower into a hole in the ground, bringing the can with it. The can was out of sight in seconds, and for a moment the sound of it clanging against the underground city cleaning tubes echoed in the silent air. Then the stone reappeared, and again the street was spotless.

The boy watched the can disappear with tired eyes, sighing when it had finally disappeared completely. Sometimes he wondered if technology could work too well.

Suddenly, he felt someone big and hard shove into his back, and he stumbled forward. "Sup Blitz?" a nasty voice crooned from behind him. Leighton shakily turned around, preparing himself to run at any moment.

"Hi Buzz," Leighton murmured, his face contorting into a grimace. He looked downright sickly when now, with his expression cutting at odd angles into his unhealthily gaunt face.

"You wondering if the garbage system is going to suck you up too? Cause I am," the muscular boy spat. Leighton took a step backwards, putting some distance between him and his assaulter.

"They didn't design it to take humans," he muttered anxiously, his eyes darting around desperately for a way out.

"No body said you were human Blitz," the other boy responded.

At that moment, Leighton found what he was looking for. Just as Buzz swung his arm back to sock poor Leighton in the stomach, the smaller boy bolted. His feet hit the ground in awkward strides, as he tripped over himself. Somehow though, he managed to stay upright. Buzz was quick to follow, running after his victim with the finesse of a fit young man. Unfortunately for Buzz though, no one knew the maze of advanced buildings in District 3 like Leighton. When he turned the corner into another alley to chase after Leighton, the boy had mysteriously vanished.

Mumbling to himself about a waste of an oportunity for excitement, Buzz went on, leaving Leighton behind.

Moments later, a huge opaque glass panel inched forwards off the side of one of the buildings that lined the ally. Behind it, Leighton wheezed as he looked around, checking to make sure it was safe. Yes, it was. He sighed in relief as he sank down onto the ground, his breaths shallow and ragged. He should really try and get in shape some time. It'd do him some good.

* * *

Annabelle "Belle" Mechan, 13, District 3

* * *

Belle watched as Cable carefully spread out the rag in front of her. Twelve piles of berries sat on the rag, all looking almost identical. Her eyebrows came together as she studied each pile, pulling out a sample of each fruit and examining them. She crushed each one between her fingers, looking at the color of the juices, the shape of the seeds.

"Two, seven, four, and twelve," she finally said, chewing on her lip. "Those are the poisonous ones."

The boy she was sitting with made a buzzing noise. "Ehhhh, wrong. You died," he said. "Two, seven, four, and eleven are poisonous. Twelve is a argus berry, perfectly edible. Although, it tastes like sandpaper. If you have a choice, I'd recommend eating something else."

Belle giggled. "I'll keep that in mind when I'm starving," she said.

"Don't say that. You're not going to need these skills anyway. It won't matter," he told her shaking his head.

"It makes me feel better knowing though," Belle said quietly, shivering at the thought of it.

"Yeah yeah yeah. We better get going though," Cable brushed her off as he got himself to his feet. He offered her a hand up, and she took it.

"Don't pretend like your not worried too," she told him, shaking her head. "At least if your not worrying about yourself, then your worrying about Tesla or Zane."

"I don't think it matters that much, if I'm worried or not," he said shrugging. Cable reached down and grabbed the knife that was laying in the grass. The pair strolled through the woods, walking towards a huge hedge that was located about a quarter mile to the east of where they had been sitting. Cable quizzed her as they walked, asking about the correct way to notch an arrow into a bow. She answered correctly, of course. Learning to use his bow and arrow set was one of the few things that she had been looking forward to learning.

It really all started three years ago when she was ten. Cable was twelve at the time, and it was his first year in the reaping. That's when the Games had become real to her. She had been so worried about him. In fact, she had told her parents that if Cable got picked, she was going to bust him out of the justice building, and run away. She was still harboring a lot of childhood nativity at the time. Finally after Cable had taken enough of her harping on the possibilities, he had taken her into the woods. She knew he went there to get extra food for his family- feeding six kids was no easy task for his parents, but she really didn't understand how much he knew until he showed her. It made her feel better, knowing he wouldn't be helpless if he got picked. He was her oldest friend after all, and the closest thing she had to a brother.

About a week after Cable didn't get picked for the reaping, she had a horrible nightmare about getting picked for the games herself. Unlike him, she would be completely useless in the arena. So she asked him to teach her. Most of the year the met in the woods maybe once every two weeks. Then during the month before the reaping, when her nerves were running extra high, they'd met more often. Last year they started coming even more during the regular year because it was the first time her name would be in the ball. If she got picked today, she wouldn't be as inept as she would have been three years ago, but still, she was no career. Most of the time they just went over how to build fires or which bugs were the most digestible.

It was only recently that Cable had decided to give her the preliminary lessons on archery. He was adamant that she was wasting her time getting too in depth with weapons like bows, since she wasn't going to get picked and everything.

The two came up to the hedge and climbed under the bottom through the branchy part. They emerged in the middle of the advanced District Three city. The sign: Warning End of Civilization, Do Not Enter, hanging on the front side of the hedge to their backs.

* * *

Leighton Blitz, 15

* * *

Leighton walked into the square with his hands jammed in his pockets, and his eyes trained on the ground. He dissappeared easily into the crowd, his forgettable face becoming just part of the scenery. He stood alone in the section of fifteen year olds, and no one else moved to join him. He was okay with it though. If he wanted friends, he'd find them, but friends were overrated.

On stage the mayor was finishing up his speech. Behind him, Carlton Odysseus was sitting beside Beetee, one of District Three's victors. Beetee seemed to be chatting to the escort, telling him about something that Carlton clearly didn't find interesting. When the mayor finished the speech, Carlton looked more than relieved to leave his seat and walk up to the microphone.

"Hello, hello," the man said pushing some wacky glasses up his nub of a nose. "How very nice to see all of you again in your wonderful city. Who is excited for the reaping today?"

Silence.

"Ah, well I am," he said grinning at the crowd so that everyone could see his oddly round pink teeth. "How about we begin with the boys today, huh?"

Carlton walked over to the bowl, and reached into the sea of papers. Digging one out from the very bottom, he began to open up a slip of paper. Leighton felt the annual sickening nervous feeling begin to surface in his gut as he closed his eyes to wait for him to read the name.

"Leighton Blitz," he said.

Some kind of involuntary sound of horror escaped Leighton's throat. For a moment the world was silent. Then the next thing he knew, he just needed to get away, to hide like he always did.

"Mom," he screeched looking around for her face. She wasn't in this square though. She was in an adjacent street watching this on a screen. "Mom, help me," he screamed again.

He started running, but two strong hands stopped him. He thrashed hopelessly against them, but it was too late. He was as good as dead. His mother could not help him now.

* * *

Belle Mechan, 13

* * *

Belle watched as some boy was dragged up on stage screaming for his mother. One thing was for sure, he didn't make a good impression on the capitol. At least Cable and his little brother Zane didn't get picked. She didn't know this boy, so she wouldn't have to grieve when he died.

On stage, Carlton Odysseus looked unhappily at the boy. Usually he looked that way when the reaping kid got dragged up on stage. District 3 usually only won when the tribute was calm and intelligent. This boy looked like he was neither.

"Onto the girls," Carlton went on moving to the other bowl. Reaching into that one, he picked one slip up, then changed his mind, picking up another one.

"Annabelle Mechan."

Belle felt her heart explode as she blinked. She wanted to cry so badly, but she knew that it wasn't smart. More than that though, if she cried, it'd hurt her family. Swallowing her tears in her throat, she put on a hopefully winning smile as she walked shakily up to the stage. She could feel Cable staring at her from the boy's section, though she couldn't see him.

Well, he was wrong about one thing. All that training, she would be needing it.

* * *

Leighton Blitz, 15

* * *

Leighton melted into the watery hug from his mother, trying very hard to accept her comfort. The problem was that nothing could really comfort him right now. He could feel his minutes counting down already. He grieved for his lost life. His mother would be all alone now, betrayed by her two eldest daughters, and abandoned by her only son.

"Maybe you can quit one of your jobs now that you'll just have to feed yourself," he said feebly, successfully making his mother cry even more. Optimism didn't suit him.

"You just try and do well honey," she sobbed.

"I'm good at hiding and stuff, you know," he muttered. She nodded through tears.

He sighed, thinking about his life. He must have done something really wrong to have this must crap happen to him in his lifetime. First his twin sisters ditch him and his mom for their rich husbands, leaving the mother and son to starve to death. Now he gets reaped for the Hunger Games. Well, at least it will be over when he dies. No one will be able to hurt him anymore then.

* * *

Belle Mechan, 13

* * *

"I love you," Belle said, as her parents were escorted out of the room. They had been a mess as they bid their only daughter farewell.

Cable walked in next. His eyes looked bloodshot, like he was ready to cry. He hadn't broken down yet though, and she was grateful for that. "I'm really scared Cable," she said, her voice shaking as the two embraced each other. She wouldn't worry her parents with her own fears, but Cable, she could vent to him.

"I know," he said, squeezing her in a hug. "I should have taught you how to use a bow sooner."

"I know how to use a knife," she said weakly.

"And how to survive," he agreed. "You can win. You have a chance."

She nodded. Yes she did. She had a chance, a one in twenty four chance. It wasn't much, but it was something. And she had gotten very good at taking advantage of her resources.

* * *

A/N: Another shortie. Hopefully you liked it. Four more reapings to go!


	11. District 9: An Escape

Velt Ganger, 12, District 9

* * *

He sat in a tree, high above the ground as tears fell like raindrops, dampening the dry earth below. A dark blue bruise formed on his cheek, a battle scar from a dark moment. No one could see him, up here, hidden among the branches, but their absence only made the tears come faster. Oh yes, he was quite alone. In his mind the past hour was on replay. He felt the blow seven times over, each punch deepening the crack in his heart. He buried his face deeper into his knees.

"Velt?" a voice called in the distance.

The boy's first reaction to his name was fear. Had his father finally hunted him down in the one place he felt safe? But no. The voice belonged to a girl. There was no drunken man clamoring after him. Not this time at least.

"Cosette?" he answered the voice weakly.

The sound of feet running on the damp ground grew louder as she approached. Through the break in the branches he saw her. His older sister with her blonde, almost white hair peered up at him. An expression of pure relief swam across her face.

"We came home and no one could find you," she sighed, a small smile on her face. "You had us all so worried."

He shrugged, hiding his bruised cheek from her. "Dad wasn't worried," he answered feebly. Cosette's smile fell.

"Velt come down please," she said seriously. He only complied because if he said no, she'd come up to him. They'd find out eventually anyway. They always did. He took his time uncoiling himself from the nook he had wedged himself in and climbing carefully down, navigating the branches easily. When he landed on the ground, he hid the left side of his face from her, but she knew better. Taking his chin, she turned his head to the side, taking in the bruise. A quick wisp of air sucked into her lungs.

"Oh he didn't," she said, sounding angry. "When Nole hears about this-"

"Don't tell Nole. I don't want him to be mad at Dad," Velt interrupted quickly, looking at the ground timidly. The last time Nole found out his father had hit him, his brother had come home and the two had gotten into the most horrible fight. Nole broke his nose, and his Dad got a concussion. Nobody won.

"Velt, we can't hide this from him forever," Cosette sighed.

"No, but let me tell him. If I tell him, maybe he won't flip out like normal," Velt pleaded his soft olive-green eyes watering.

Cosette sighed, biting her lip. "Have I ever told you how to treat a bruise?" she asked giving in. Velt smiled a little nodding.

"You put ice on it."

"Well then let's go get you some ice."

* * *

Skye Ager, 14, District 9

* * *

Skye kneeled down and straightened Demetrius's shirt. His bright aqua eyes shined up at her, so full of happiness. He smiled, his baby cheeks bunching, up at her. She would miss this, when she died. There weren't many happy things left in the world, but Demetrius was most certainly one of them.

"You look so cute," Skye gushed poking her little brother in the nose. He made his 'cute face', squinching his face for her.

"You're going to look real pwetty too in your dress Skye," he said sweetly, rocking onto his toes.

She poked him in the stomach, making him giggle as she rolled her eyes. He was sucking up because he knew that she would sneak him some of her desert later if he played his cards right. He was going to be unhappy when he found out that she wouldn't be dining with him at all later. In fact, breakfast this morning would be the last meal that Skye planned on eating with any of her family members.

"I better go change then huh. Why don't you go down and start eating," Sky said smoothing down his hair.

"Okey dokey," the boy sang, skipping away down the steps.

Skye watched him go, her smile fading once she was alone. She walked over to her closet and began to change, avoiding mirrors. Her dress was pretty with its tight waist and poofy skirt. She would look nice later when all the District was watching her. She didn't want to see it though. She had looked in the mirror enough times over the past year. At some point, it just became too difficult on herself. Every time she looked, she saw the girl who didn't volunteer for her little sister.

Carefully pinning her hair into a pretty up-do, Skye finished her look by putting on a dash of makeup. Walking down the stairs, Skye took a seat at the table beside her little brother.

"See mommy, I told you she was going to look pwetty," Demetrius said as she sat.

Her mother, who was sitting across the table, nodded; however, Skye could see her true feelings in the lines of her face. Her mother didn't really think she was pretty. In fact, she didn't really think her daughter was anything. Skye still remembered that night last year. _If she gets picked, you volunteer for her, understand? _her mother had said. Well Skye didn't volunteer. She almost did, but she didn't. Her mom hadn't praised her, or even send a mildly civil look her way since.

* * *

Velt Ganger, 12

* * *

Velt waited patiently outside the little farmhouse for Marcer to emerge. The bruise on his face had gotten darker, as time made it look worse. Cosette had told him he was lucky his eye hadn't swollen shut. The ice had done its job in time.

Beside him, his second sister Brye waited with him, although she wasn't paying attention to her brother right now. No, she was looking over the weeds that were growing beside the huge wheat field that stretched out beside Marcer's house. After a few minutes, she picked up a root and handed it to Velt.

"Chew on this, it's good," she said, sticking part of it in her own mouth.

"What is it?" Velt asked curiously.

"I don't know, but I've eaten it before, and I'm not dead yet," Brye answered, her dark eyebrow raising. Velt smiled and took the root, popping it in his mouth. To his surprise it actually burst when he bit into it, a bunch of watery liquid seeping into his mouth.

"Velt?" a new voice called. He spun around, and upon seeing his best friend Marcer walking out in her cute yellow dress, a wide grin stretched onto his face.

"Hi," he said waving. She bobbed over to him, her pigtails bouncing as she went. "You look nice," he blushed looking at the ground.

"Thanks, you do to," she answered happily. She didn't say anything about his purple cheek, and Velt couldn't have been more grateful. He was done talking about his injury. When he showed Nole earlier, his older brother hadn't been happy.

A few minutes later, Marcer's older brother and parents walked out and the group started making their way towards the town. Velt and Marcer quickly started walking ahead of their families, chatting together. Velt told her about a new ball Nole had gotten him, and Marcer told him about the farming lesson she had in school the other day. Of course, the Games was a topic carefully avoided, but for the moment the two were happy.

This year would be Velt's first year with his name in the bowl, although he would only be in there once. His family didn't need the tesserae despite his father's heavy drinking habits. His three older siblings earned enough to support everyone. The odds of him getting picked were truly in his favor. Accordingly, he didn't worry about the Games. He had enough things to fear without factoring in such unlikely things.

They reached the square about a half an hour later, at which time Velt's feet were getting sore. It was a long walk to get to the little town in the middle of the District. Most of Nine was just miles and miles of rolling hills filled with all sorts of grain. People lives scattered around, visiting the town on the first monday of every month to trade. And for the reapings. Everyone always visited for the reapings.

"I'm going to be with Nole and Cosette 'kay Velt?" Brye called as Velt made his way with Marcer to the check in.

"M'kay," Velt mumbled back. Nole and Cosette had left an hour earlier because they wanted to stop by the animal barn to see if they could barter for a sheep or goat or something. They had made a good amount of money that month, and buying an animal could take a lot of stress of them.

Velt walked to the check in and got his finger pricked with Marcer. At that point they had to separate, and they exchanged a timid hug for good luck before going their own ways.

"Good luck," she whispered in his ear as they parted. He shrugged. Thinking of his father, he resisted shaking his head.

Good luck did not exist.

* * *

Skye Ager, 14

* * *

Skye stood among the crowd as the memory of last year's reaping swarmed her. She could practically taste the mixture of fear and desperation in the air as images of her sister's name being pulled out of that ball flashed before her eyes. Yet it was her heart that had been consumed by terror because she had every intention of volunteering. Her sister should not have been in the arena. But she was. Dale had shot Skye a solid agonizing look as Larina Tallat asked for volunteers. The one look had stopped her. Dale had told her later what she was thinking- suicide by Hunger Games. It would be a guiltless way to go. Well, it appeared that Dale wouldn't be the last Ager girl to take the Games to the grave.

Skye watched blindly as the reaping began. The mayor gave his token speech, and Larina Tallat clicked her heels to the podium. Her unusually deep voice echoed through the square as she greeted the crowd with her almost grandmotherly air. Skye didn't really hear her words. That is not until the name was called.

"Ricer Gertrude," the woman called in a throaty voice.

A sixteen year old girl two sections behind her made a thirty screech as she mumbled something undecipherable to her neighbor. Something was clearly off with her, though Skye couldn't put her finger on it. She didn't really care either. That girl wasn't going to die this year.

"Any volunteers?" Larina inquired, almost bored. District Nine hadn't had one volunteer in the history of the Games. District Twelve was the only other District with a spotless record.

"I volunteer," Skye's voice rang through the air. Everyone went silent, as she made her way up on stage. On her way up a couple of hands clapped her on the back, a silent thank you for saving the mental girl's life. That girl was irrelevant though. Nothing would have changed if the most fit eighteen year old had been picked.

"And your name sweetie?" Larina asked, her puckered olive colored lips twitching into what Skye thought was a smile.

"Skye Ager. Dale's sister, from last year."

She wanted them all to know. It was her sister these Games had killed this year.

* * *

Velt Ganger, 12

* * *

Velt watched feeling sorry for the girl as she told everyone her name. He remembered last years games. The District Nine female had died in the bloodbath. It was very tragic, though he had never met the girl. He wondered why this girl had volunteered, and then if his father would bring out the belt when she died. That's what usually happened. His dad didn't like the Games, and he seemed to have the funny idea that it was Velt's idea to create them.

"Well, onto the boys," Larina Tallat sang. It was hard to tell her expression because the escort had her lips surgically puffed to the point where they barely even moved when she spoke, but Velt could tell she was really happy with Skye. She did look relatively healthy and fit, which wasn't always the case with the tributes from Nine.

Reaching into the ball, Larina picked a name off of the top. Opening the slip her puffy lips moved to the microphone.

"Velt Ganger."

Velt's stomach flipped over. His name was just called. He was sure of it. He was going to the Games. Why wasn't he scarred?

He knew the answer though before the question formulated. He wasn't scared because he knew what fear was. Fear was that feeling in his gut when his father came home at one in the morning, drunk, and found him sleeping on the coach. Fear was the pulse of adrenaline in his veins as a belt cut into his back. Fear was the ache in his bones as he woke up the day after his father broke his wrist, realizing that he would have to go back home later that evening. Fear was not knowing when the pain was going to stop, or when it would start again.

Death was not fear. Death was certain and painless. It was the end of fear, really. The Hunger Games would be the end of his fear.

* * *

Skye Ager, 14

* * *

Her mother burst into the room, tears rolling down her cheeks and a look of fury in her eyes.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" she demanded, already engulfing her daughter in a hug.

Skye looked at her mother in disbelief. "I couldn't stay here, not with you looking at me like it was my fault every morning," she responded quietly. She looked over her mothers shoulder to see a dazed Demetrius toddling into the room.

"Mommy says your going away like Dale," he said loudly, his voice on the edge of tears.

Skye's mother either didn't hear her son's question, or chose not to because she pulled away from her daughter and looked her in the eye. "I- I was upset, and sad," the woman choked out. "But I would have gotten over it. I never stopped loving you."

Skye didn't know how to respond. It did not compute in her mind, what her mother was telling her. Not once over the past year had her mother said those three words: I love you. All she did was send her daughter those horrible looks of disapproval and blame. That's what her mother did, she blamed.

"You have to win now," her mother sobbed. "I can't lose both of you."

"Mommy says your going away like Dale," Demetrius repeated louder, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

Skye walked around her mother, guilt in the back of her throat, and over to her little brother. "I'm going to go find Dale," she said smiling. "You have mommy to watch you, but Dale is all alone. Don't you think I should go keep her company?"

Demetrius looked up at her skeptically. "But Dale isn't coming back is she?" he asked confused.

"No, no she isn't," Skye replied softly.

* * *

Velt Ganger, 12

* * *

Nole was the first one to barge through the door, tears streaming down his face. In a moment, Velt was no longer touching the floor, and his shirt was suddenly very wet. Then he felt four more sets of arms around him, and for a minute, they all just stood there embracing, him and his three siblings.

"You go, and you try throwing spears," Nole said desperately. "Remember how I taught you how to throw that ball I bought, and you can throw it really far?" Velt nodded. "It's not all that different. I've tried it before with a stick. You could figure it out. Understand?"

Velt paused for a minute. "If I come back will dad be mad?" he asked quietly, avoiding the gaze of his brother. Nole made a choking sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cry of pain.

"If you come home, we are all going to go live in Victor's Village, and Father dearest can live in our dump of a house, festering in his own filth. If you come home, I promise he won't hurt you ever again. Okay?" Nole said.

"You promise?" Velt asked, feeling a small twinge of hope in his stomach. He never thought about a life like that- living in a rich mansion with his siblings, never seeing his father again.

"Yeah, I promise."

* * *

**A/N: Taadaa there's District Nine. Three more reapings to go! (I can't wait to get into the pre-game fun)**


	12. District 1: The Rich and Famous

Autumn Mistviel, 17, District 1

* * *

Once a year. That was how often she got the privilege of seeing her mom, her closest friend. From the age of ten, she had been attending the most prestigious Tribute Academy. It was a boarding school that had classes every day of every week of the entire year. Nothing short of excellence was accepted from the Academy's students, and that meant dedication. The school only had one holiday- reaping day, today.

Autumn craned her head high to peer over into the sea of students, looking for her mother. Around her, happy reunions were plentiful as kids from age eight to eighteen enveloped their families in happy hugs. Feeling lonely, she kept looking, an almost lost look in her eyes. Her mom had told her she was going to be here a half an hour ago. Suddenly though, the crowd seemed to part. Excited whispers travelled through the air in a hushed buzz. And Autumn knew, her mother had arrived.

Before she even saw her, a loud cheerful voice echoed through the courtyard. Autumn smiled as one of the school's newest yet most popular instructors exploded through the courtyard. "Sparkle, my girl, how are you doing?" he sang. Autumn moved towards the voice, knowing that where she found her instructor, she'd find her mom.

"Oh, Sterling," Autumn heard her mom say none too pleased. Pushing around her classmates, she finally spotted the woman. There was a small circle around her as the other students gave her a wide berth. She stood proudly in the center, completely above their stares and whispers. Her shiny blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders as her leaf green eyes gleamed under the morning sun. She was gorgeous really, but there was a dangerous air about her all the same.

Beside her, Sterling, a lean young man who had won two years ago, had his arm slung around her neck as he grinned, clearly overjoyed to be seeing his mentor again. His black hair was styled so that it was sticking up, the way the Capitol citizens liked it, and his tie matched his silver eyes. He too looked rather stunning, but in a different way. Autumn's mother was untouchable, the kind of person that seemingly cared for nobody. On the other hand, Sterling seemed rather approachable.

"Mom," Autumn called, clutching her bag a little tighter. Sterling released Autumn's mother, allowing her to stride over to her daughter. The two girls squeezed each other tightly. When she pulled away, Sparkle examined her daughter carefully.

"You ready for today?" she asked.

Autumn nodded, looking over her shoulder at her classmates, none of them were her friends. In fact, she didn't really have any friends. It wasn't that she didn't like them, or that they didn't like her. She just wasn't much of a talker. All the same, she wouldn't have been upset if at least someone had tried to be a little friendly with her. The life of a victor's daughter was by all means lonely.

"I was ready the day you gave me that sword," Autumn replied, a bitter undertone present in her voice.

* * *

Eros Cunningham, 18, District 1

* * *

Eros woke up, groggily looking around his room. Moving a hand up to his head, he groaned. Where in the world did this splitting headache come from? He didn't have that much memory of the previous night, though he was sure he had been hanging out with some girl. What was her name? He couldn't remember. Looking around his room, his eye settled on a stray ribbon that was strewn around one of the nobs on his dresser. He grinned. Well, that was not his; he must have had some fun last night.

A thumping knock echoed on the door to his dorm, making Eros's head pound. "Put on some pants because I'm coming in," a voice called loudly. Eros looked down at himself disoriented, realizing that he was in fact, only wearing his boxers. Jumping out of bed, he just had time to pull on a pair of slacks before the door swung open. A muscular boy with spiked brown hair and blue eyes stood leaning in the door frame, a preppy looking sweater and grey khakis adorning his figure. A small smirk played across the boys lips as he caught sight of the pink ribbon.

"Some going away party right?" he asked raising a devilish eyebrow. That's right. Flame, his best friend, had thrown him a pre-victory party last night in the lounge.

Eros groaned. "I wouldn't be able to tell you. How many shots did I take?"

"You didn't," Flame responded, snorting. "I think that Plush Sanders was decided that just pouring the entire bottle down your throat was a much more effective way of getting you a little tipsy."

Eros contemplated this for a minute. "Plush Sanders... Is she pretty?" he asked.

"Very."

"Ah, well then I agree, your party was quite successfully," Eros nodded.

Flame clapped his hands, rubbing them together as he surveyed Eros' room, making Eros move his hands painfully to his head. Thankfully, Flame had come prepared, throwing his friend a little orange bottle of pills. Eros popped one into his mouth. The expression of relief was almost instantaneous.

"You better put your cloths on. Your dad was supposed to get here an hour ago," Flame said. "Wouldn't want to keep the mayor waiting would you?"

"Crap."

Eros was suddenly on his feet and moving. He had completely forgotten about that. He was probably expected down in the courtyard eons ago. Throwing on a sky blue dress shirt, he quickly examined himself in the mirror. There was no denying the fact that he looked hot. His shirt was slightly open at the top, revealing a bit of his chiseled chest, his ash blonde hair was awry giving him an almost disheveled look, and his green eyes were bright and alert. It was perfect.

Half jogging out the door, he paused for a minute grabbing Flame by the arm. His best friend was eighteen too, but he wasn't chosen as District One's volunteer. Still, he would be embarking on the journey that is normal life today, and Eros had promised himself that he wouldn't forget another of his friend's milestones. "Happy graduation by the way," he grinned.

Flame smiled back. "You too bro, you too."

* * *

Autumn Mistveil, 17

* * *

Autumn hugged her mom at the base of the stage one last time. It wouldn't be a very long good-bye this time, as she'd be rejoining the woman on the train on her way to the capitol. The light buzz of excitement churned in her stomach. She couldn't wait for this stage of her life to end. In two months she'd be living back in Victor's Village among her mother and the thirteen other District One victors, many of whom were already almost family to her.

"See you on the train," Sterling called from somewhere behind the two Mistveil women.

Autumn blushed and looked at the ground. "See you on the train," she muttered back waving.

Sterling would be the male District One mentor this year. The Dean at the academy usually decided which of the previous victors would best click with each year's tribute. The decision was easy this year. Autumn would obviously work with her mother, while Sterling would be working with her district partner Eros. She had talked to Eros only a few times over the past couple years, but just from those few encounters she knew the two would be a perfect fit. If anything, Eros's sexy-boy act was even worse than Sterling's. Although, there was no denying that he could pull it off. Half the girls in the district swooned every time they saw him.

"Go get into your spot," Sparkle told her daughter, glancing up at the clock. Her daughter obliged, quietly taking her position on the edge of the seventeen year old groups.

_This is it_, she thought. _This is my moment. _

* * *

Eros Cunningham, 18

* * *

Eros watched, a hard scowl cutting into his handsome features as the mayor, his father spoke. There was no getting around the fact that the man looked rather pompous standing up there and addressing the District like he owned the place. It irked Eros to no end. The jerk didn't even have the courtesy of picking Eros up at the academy and driving him to the reaping. No, Eros had to walk into town with Flame. Some nerve that man had pissing off his only life line to fame and fortune. Not that the mayor mansion wasn't already huge and luxurious, there was just a sense of pride that came with waking up every morning in victors village. Well, it was a sense of pride that Eros's father would never feel. Nope. Eros planned on winning the games, basking in his glory, then slamming the door in his father's face. That will show him.

"Yo, Flame, when I win, you should room with me," Eros said, while he was thinking on it. "I mean, I'm going to need someone to fill up that big house with."

Flame grinned beside him. "Awesome. I'm going to hold you to that."

On stage Eros' father stopped blubbering, and Neptune Boxright stepped up to the microphone, his teeth literally glittering under the spotlights. Eros glanced over towards the girl's section as introductions were given, looking for his future district partner. He found her easily, looking at the ground seriously with a contemplating expression, as her copper hair rustled in the wind. When he had found out he'd be working with Sparkle Mistveil's daughter in the arena, Eros had been mildly interested, but after watching her a few times since then, he'd gotten over it. She was always making that thoughtful face; it was rather boring.

A girl standing behind Autumn suddenly waved at Eros enthusiastically. He stared at her quizzically before realizing that he knew that girl's pretty face. It was Plush. He remembered flirting with her the previous night, and Flame made it sound like they did a little more than flirt. Well, she was pretty. He shot her a jovial wink. Thankfully, he wasn't close enough to hear her squeal. It's a good think he would be leaving today, she seemed like a class-a clinger. Now he would have a solid month before he had to formulate a good way to phrase his I-don't-actually-want-to-date-you speech.

"Eloquent Cramer," Neptune suddenly called out.

In a flash, a little girl stumbled onto the stage, then was replaced by a very attentive Autumn. He barely even heard her call out she was volunteering, though she clearly did. Oh well.

A minute later, Neptune called the second name out to the crowd, but Eros didn't hear him. He was already making his way forward.

"Do I have any volun-"

Eros grabbed the microphone away from Neptune, giving the crowd a seductive grin. "Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce you all, to the sexiest victor to ever enter the Games," he looked over and winked at Autumn, who wore a guarded expression. "My name is Eros Cunningham. Don't forget it."

He bowed to the crowd, before making his way over to his spot. Neptune soon regained control of the microphone, giving a good-natured laugh. Everyone was going wild of course. It was always a good sign when people made impressions on reaping day.

Eros snuck another glance over at Autumn, grinning again. She nodded to him, again in her own reserved way. He felt almost giddy.

Oh yes, let the Games begin.

* * *

**A/N:**** Yet another shortie. No justice buildings because Autumn just has her mom, who she will be seeing on the train, and I think I summed up Eros's feelings for his dad pretty well. Two more reapings left. Whoop!**


	13. District 10: Home on the Range

Roan Ardennes, 17, District 10

* * *

In the dull lit metallic room, a tall brooding man held up his cleaver. With one swift motion he brought it down onto the corpse bellow. A loud thump banged around the room as the man cut directly through the leg, bone and all. Stale blood spilled out onto the table, dripping into the strategically placed piping before gathering into a bucket on the ground. The man himself looked like a blood demon usually only seen in the nightmares of small children.

His two rubber gloves were smeared with fresh red liquid that almost looked black under in the dim lighting. His long tweed apron wasn't so densely coated, but instead it retained stains from previous use, an entire collage of black, red, and faded sickly orange decorated him. Even his dark brown hair glinted scarlet when the light hit it at the right angle.

With a stolid face of concentration, he lifted the cleaver again.

"Dad," a voice called from the hallway. The man looked up, his brown eyes turning towards the door.

"Roan?" he answered putting his dripping knife down.

A girl with the same copper hair as the man walked into the room. She looked uncomfortable in her frilly red blouse and obviously feminine trousers. Se even wobbled slightly in the half-inch heels that adorned her feet. "This is what you thought I should wear?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, it was your mothers. I thought you should dress, er, you know, girly for the reaping. Ponders said that's what his girl's do," the man said awkwardly.

"I don't know, it feels weird," Roan muttered in response, frowning at herself.

"It was your mother's. And you can't wear your butchering uniform to the reaping," the man said, looking down at himself. Roan gave a compliant sigh. She hated the reaping, mostly because she had no desire to wear such useless girly clothing. If she had it her way it'd be her butcher jeans, and a different plaid shirt every day. No dresses. No blouses. No frills.

"Yeah okay," Roan said making to walk over to the bench behind the large steel butcher table. Before she could get there though, her father shook his head, pointing the huge cleaver at her feet.

"You're going to track blood all over the house if you walk in here," he said.

Roan rolled her eyes. "I'm leaving," she said holding up her hands. Slipping out the door to the carving room, she shoved her hands into her pockets and went into the store front. At least the dress pants had pockets, she thought to herself. She wouldn't be able to live without pockets.

* * *

Roland Bucks, 16, District 10

* * *

Hooves echoed in the distance, the steady ba bum ba bum ba bum, growing like thunder. A cloud of dust formed on the horizon, growing, growing, until the entire world seemed to be nothing but sticky flying dirt, and sweltering heat. The steady rumble was here, growing to a vibrating chorus of screaming animal feet. The two boys could feel the sound moving through their bones like fire as they picked up speed.

Cows, thousands of cows roared on ahead of them, moving faster than seemingly possible. The boys could not see the front of the herd, but they simply knew they were there, moving on track. The sound of trampling hooves thumping the ground continued steadily, until soon it became muffled. The ground underneath them had changed. No longer were they traveling on the dirt plain. Now dry grass muffled their noise. They were getting close.

The white picket fence appeared out of no where, the gate open wide for the cattle to filter through. This was were the fun began. Most of the animals flew right into the fenced in area, slowing themselves down almost too fast, and began grazing on the newly watered grass inside. Others though reared left and right, running towards more open prairie.

The two boys both moved in perfect symmetry, pulling their horses wide of the fence, two long ropes materializing from their bags. The boy who reared left moved first, taking his rope and swinging it above his head in a careful circle. Slowly it wobbled to life until eventually the swinging was coming in crisply, a perfect wide lasso swirling in the air. With an easy toss, the boy landed the lasso around one cow's neck, pulling tightly. It jerked to the side for a second, before easing into the motion, following the boy's direction into the fence. Twenty minutes later, fifty-four cows stood still grazing, all inside the pen.

Both boys jumped off of their horses, beads of sweat running down their temples as they surveyed their work satisfied. The one who had moved first, took off his hat, revealing a thick tangle of brown hair that clung to his forehead. Smiling, he clapped his companion on the back. "We made good time," he said, looking at the sun, a satisfied glint in his stormy blue eyes.

The other nodded, as he chewed on a piece of straw he had picked up a long time ago. Pushing the brim of his wide cow-boy hat up, he revealed a face that was completely identical to the others. Same blue eyes, square chin, and brown hair. "You care if we just sit for a few minutes," he asked, twisting the straw in his mouth. "Number thirteen tired me out."

The other looked towards the sun, taking careful measurement of the time, then shifted his gaze towards a white barn house that sat on the hill in the distance. "Dad said to get home immediately after we finished," he said, his voice tight. A vein in the middle of his forehead protruded as the boy frowned.

"Aw come on Roland, we finished early," the other sighed.

"But... Dad said... And we can't be late. It's reaping day," he started back, shifting in tall brown boots.

"Yeah yeah yeah, dad said. Come on," the second muttered rolling his eyes.

"Sorry Matty," Roland said, his shoulders relaxing and the vein shrinking back into his skull.

The other boy, Mathew, just shrugged. "It's not like I didn't already know the answer."

Roland nodded, and the two boys closed the gate to the cow pen before continuing on their way.

* * *

Roan Ardennes, 17

* * *

Roan waited slightly impatiently in the line for check in. It was taking an abysmally long time for the line to move. Kids were such wimps these days, nine out of ten shrinking away from the needle. Roan had no issue with a light prick of the finger. After years of working along side of her father, dismembering animals, she had gotten much worse cuts before. Nearly chopping your finger off with a ginormous cleaver hurt like hell. Next to that, a little prick felt like nothing. It was almost funny how terrified some of the younger kids were, especially the girls.

After what felt like a millenium of waiting, Roan inched her way to the front of the line. She didn't even flinch as the needle plunged into her flesh. Once the peacekeeper dismissed her, she strolled over to her spot and waited for the rest of the square to fill up. It was still early though, as she lived only a few blocks away from the main square. She would have waited longer to leave, except the line just kept growing, and she had been getting antsy.

Suddenly a loud whistle pierced her ears.

"Gee wiz, you boys see what I see?" a deep familiar voice cried loudly. "Is that Ardennes wearing, what is that? Girl cloths? Hey Roan, I didn't know you had such curves."

Roan wheeled around, her face burning cherry red as her eyes landed on none other than Mason Yutak. He was wiggling his eyebrows at her as three of his friends guffawed around him. Mason was a friend of hers from school. She usually sat with him and four other guys during lunch hour, and it was great. Usually they got along just dandy. She was just another one of the guys. Unfortunately they all ragged on each other quite a lot, and on reaping day, she was an easy target.

"You want me to go get my butcher's knife Yutak? I will," Roan threatened hotly, her eyes piercing daggers into the boy.

"I dare you to sweetheart," he called back, blowing an exaggerated kiss her way. Her face seemed to get hotter, if that was possible, as the red began to darken into purple. Turning her back on Mason and the others, she crossed her arms and tried not to punch anybody. Deep breaths, she told herself. Deep breaths.

* * *

Roland Bucks, 16

* * *

"Give me the map Soren," Roland breathed, feeling his fist clench. His breaths were coming in choked intervals and the vein in his forehead was popping out as he held out his hand. He could feel it in the constipated tightness of his chest: they were going to be late.

"Nah, I've got this," Soren grinned snorting.

That was the worst part. Soren knew that they were lost, knew that Roland couldn't stand being lost, and simply didn't care. He wouldn't though, being too old for the reapings this year. There was no pressure on him to get to the reaping on time, instead, he could just cause his six younger siblings untold amounts of stress just to watch Roland squirm a bit.

"Just give him the map Soren. You know he'll be better at navigating anyway," Mathew sighed. A few yards behind the boys, a brown eyed girl huffed.

"I swear Soren if you give Roland a hemorrhage over a stupid map, I'm going to..." a the girl huffed, takeing a step forward threateningly. Roland shot his sister Lou-Ann a grateful glance.

Soren put his hands up, dropping the map a few inches above Roland's head. Snatching the paper out of the air, the vein in Roland's forehead relaxed a little as he studied the map with studious care. For a minute, feeling the paper with the beloved directions in his hand, his gut sang with relief. Then he realized that they had been strategically walking in a circle about a quarter-mile away from the town. He felt the panicked feeling return.

"This way, we're going to be late," he said, takeing to a brisk pace ninety degrees west of their current direction. The group of six continued on their way for about seven minutes before the little village was in view.

Roland heard two disappointed groans from his younger brothers as he continued to lead, his nose stuck in the broad piece of paper.

The six of them got to the peacekeeper's desk with just moments to spare. The line had been dwindleing down to just a few townspeople who had left late because they could afford to. Once inside the square, Roland and Mathew took charge, as Soren had to move to go stand with the adults. The two of them split up, Roland walking the two younger twins to their spots, and Mathew walking the girls over. Then they met back up in the sixteen year old male section. Roland felt like a burden had been lifted off his chest.

"Just wait until we're eighteen," Mathew smiled, seeing his brother's look of relief. "Then we'll have Katie to bring too."

Roland groaned at the thought of it. He was one of nine kids, and getting to the reaping was always a tough task. This year his parents had actually decided to stay home with Miles, Roland's oldest brother, and Lucy and Katherine, the two youngest. It did make things easier to have five less people in their entourage, but without their parents around, Roland felt like he was partly responsible for his family's timing. And lord knows, Roland should never be left in charge. The entire ordeal was nothing but stressful for him.

Up on stage the mayor tapped on her microphone signalling for everyone to quiet down.

As everyone around him began to zone out, Roland turned his full attention to the mayor, being sure that he comprehended every word that she said. Most kids just dismissed the capitol propoganda, and maybe Roland did too; however, it was down in the rule books that all children had to pay attention during the mayors speech. Roland took his rules very seriously.

* * *

Roan Ardennes, 17

* * *

The mayor sure took her time starting the reaping. By the time the entire town had filled up, Roan was standing stiffly amongst a crowd of girls, wrinkling her nose at the smell of perfume. When this was over she planned on retreating back into the butcher's room where she'd get herself up to her elbows in animal guts. Hopefully that would be enough to rid herself of this gross smell of false flowers.

Finally, Cyran Stunners slunk up to the microphone and grinned at the crowd. Roan felt an involuntary shudder move down her spine. The dude was straight up creepy with his yellowed teeth, jet black mohawk, and deep scarlet eyes. He had all of the pigment removed from his skin a few years back, and stuck out from the black background of the stage like chalk on a black board.

"Oh I just can't wait to see who will be joining me to the capitol this year," he hissed in greeting to District Ten. Oh, well that was new. Last year his tongue had been shaped like a normal human's. Now it seemed to be forked. Gross.

"Why don't we start with the boys," he smiled.

Walking over to the left bowl, the man plunged his hand deep before pulling it out. Two slips were in his hand- one that he had grabbed from the bowl, the other caught on one of the seven rings that adorned his fingers. He dropped the one in his hand, in favor of the one caught between his rings.

"Roland Bucks."

Roan searched the crowd of boys, looking for the poor guy. She didn't know who he was, which wasn't a surprise. District Ten was huge, and odds were that this Roland boy probably lived on an isolated ranch out in the middle of nowhere with his parents and twenty brothers and sisters. Just as expected, when Roan spotted the guy, he was dressed in a nice leather vest, probably homemade, and a black bolo tie. He appeared frozen in his spot, next to another boy who looked identical to him, probably his twin brother.

Before the peacekeepers forced the boy to move forward, the brother began to usher Roland Bucks up to the stage. Roland himself was doing a poor job of staying calm. His face was contorted into a look of pure agony as his shoulders shook. He probably was trying not to cry, but a few hot tears fell in drops to the ground. Cyran Stunners looked, of course, pleased to meet Roland, being that he was a stocky older guy that probably actually stood a chance in the games.

After the usual introduction, he moved on to the girl's bowl.

"Roan Ardennes."

The name hit her square, sucking the wind out of her lungs. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach, and wouldn't ever be able to recover. From somewhere behind her, she could hear a man shouting.

"No. No not Roan."

Her father. How would he survive once she was gone? When her mother had died, the man hadn't smile for a year. She knew that she was the only reason he hadn't killed himself yet. But now what? The color drained out of her face.

The peacekeepers materialized out of nowhere, dragging at her arms. A flip switched inside of her suddenly, and she just needed to be alone. Screaming she retched away from the two men who were holding her, screaming bloody murder. She needed her dad. She needed him now.

But there was no escaping them. She was dragged up onto the stage, her thrashing just uncomfortable knocks in the two peacekeeper's sides.

She could hear Cyran Stunners' laughs echoing around the square. In his cold voice that could make even the president's blood run cold he spoke:

"Well folks, it looks like its going to be a_very_ interesting year."

* * *

**A/N: Whoop, quick update and a slightly longer chapter! Just D6 to go, then onto the train rides (I think, I'm not 100% sure about all the little details on how I'm doing the pre-game stuff). Hopefully I'll get D6 done just as quickly.**

**And thanks for all the support I've been getting from you all. I really appreciate all 68 of the reviews I've gotten so far. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.**


	14. District 6: Breaking the Rules

Totem Earhart, 18, District 6

* * *

Chaos.

The sound of an electic engine humming overwhelmed her eardrums as the hovercraft began to come alive. A wide grin stretched across her face as the adrenaline pumped through her body. Around her tiny vehicle, people were running around screaming. "Alert four, alert four. Totem's at it again!" Men ran to get huge hooks and a switch was flipped, making the opening in the roof begin to close.

If she was going to make it, she would have to work fast.

The girl's limbs came alive as she pressed electrical buttons at an unbelievably fast rate. The different screens on the control panel flashed green, then blue, then green again while Totem gripped a lever and pulled hard. The initial ascent off the ground was painfully slow, but that was customary. The lift gages had to adjust if she were going to make the one shot jump.

On the ground, the men were almost ready to start forcing the ship back onto the ground. Seven ginormous grappling hooks were being loaded into the guns. Totem knew though from experience that they wouldn't fire until ten were ready. She would still be able to manuever out of seven. Perhaps they would be more likely to catch her if the workers were actually trying because despite the panicked facade that they were all playing, she knew they were moving sluggishly on purpose. Secretly, they all wanted to know just how far Totem would be able to go before the peacekeepers really cracked down on her.

The control panel made an urgent beeping noise, and she knew this was her chance. Being careful to align her sights on the still closing launch pad, she pushed the thruster forward. The hovercraft lurched forward with a jolt, slamming Totem back into her seat. The one person hovercraft spun upwards, heading straight towards the opening. The usually gaping hole in the ceiling had shrunk down to a slit maybe twice as wide as her craft. She grinned as she sent the hovercraft into a careful spiral, shooting through the opening and into the sky. She was free.

Really they were making this too easy for her.

She laughed as she had fun with the controls. It wasn't often that she was able to get away with a single person hover craft. Usually the landing strip only had those big passenger vehicles, and really those weren't worth taking out for a joy ride. They were too big to do tight flips and nose dives in. No, what she really lived for was crafts like this one. It was in these small vehicles were all the fun happened.

An hour later, after plenty of loops, corkscrews, and dips, Totem returned to the landing pad, masterfully guiding the craft to a gentle landing.

Four studious and upset looking men waited for her on the ground. Taking off her flying head gear, Totem jumped down to greet them. "Jacoby, this is the first time you've come down to visit," she said jovially as she recognized the head peacekeeper standing next to the squatty bald guy that was her boss.

"I can not tolerate it this time Totem," the bald guy squeaked. His entire face was glowing red from embarrassment. "Not on reaping day. We had to delay Ms. Dazy's landing because of your antics. Mayor Trayston is furious with us." Totem couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Oh yeah, because Mazy Dazy was royalty. Of course.

"I think we'll take it from here Danover," Jacoby said, a cruel smile cutting into his rock like features. The peacekeeper took an intimidating step forward when suddenly a panicked voice cut through the scene.

"Wait! Mr. Jacoby wait!"

Totem craned her head to see who her savior was to find none other than Hawk, her older brother. "Sir please, can you put this off just a few hours?" he asked breathlessly.

"Why would we do that?" Jacoby asked amused.

"Because, Totem's still of reaping age. Please, whatever your going to do, please just save it for tonight," the boy asked desperately.

The peacekeeper looked to Totem's boss for backup. Clearly he didn't want to wait. Her boss did though. She was his best upcoming pilot, and he didn't want to do anything that would damage her ability to operate a hovercraft. He knew that Totem would stop stealing crafts once she drove them for a living. It was just a matter of keeping her out of trouble with the Capitol people that was the problem.

"I don't think waiting could hurt," the man said.

Hawk relaxed, relief flooding his face. "Come on Totem," he said, grabbing his sister by the ear. "We're leaving."

* * *

Conner Trayston, 14, District 6

* * *

The table was set with a chalk-white cloth draped over it, a vase of ornate flowers sitting in the center, and their finest china. The plates were hand painted with the District Six seal at the very top of every setting. The cloth napkins were a steel grey with golden rings wrapping around them. A pristine man sat at the head, his dark brown was greased back, his suit newly pressed, his lips thinned into a stiff mask.

At his right hand sat a boy version of the man. Same greased back brown hair. Same stolid expression, Same fine pressed suit. The only difference between the two was the boy's youth and wide brown eyes.

Sitting around the table was five other men. Each one with varying levels of formality. The six men of the table all talked business as the boy sat in silent politeness. He carefully unfolded his napkin, gently placing it in his lap, as a servant brought around a light salad for the seven of them. Once each of the adults were served, the boy waited for his father to begin before picking up the appropriate salad fork and beginning to eat.

"I heard the escort finally was able to land," one of the men said.

"I can't believe that Argus was having problems with his employees and he hadn't told us."

"And now President Snow himself is sure to find out about this problem."

"Argus swore that it wouldn't happen again."

"Does it matter? He already allowed one slip up. He needs to be punished accordingly."

"Punish him or his employee?"

The banter went on. All very formal, all very business like. All the while the boy ate in silence, never looking one of the adults in the eye, waiting to be spoken to.

"Conner," the boy's father boomed suddenly. "What do you think, of all of this mess? Eh, who do you think should be punished?"

Conner paused, considering the question carefully. "He promised it wouldn't happen again, so just give him a warning. He'll discipline his workers himself, and if something happens again, on reaping day or otherwise, then get involved. The people are already on edge today. Making all of the workers upset will only agitate them more," he answered articulately. The men all laughed, and the boy's father patted him on the back.

"I agree. We'll do what the boy says," he said proudly, beaming at his son. More argument broke out, but Conner wasn't apart of it. It was not his place to challenge the adults decisions. And above all Conner knew his manners.

* * *

Totem Earhart, 18

* * *

Totem walked briskly down the street, a devilish grin plastered on her face. Beside her, her brother Hawk was chastising her loudly.

"On reaping day, honestly Totem, you just have twenty-four hours until you can apply to become a real pilot. But no, you decided that it was a great idea to just go steal the hovercraft anyway. Now that was real clever of you. Real great idea," he went on throwing his arms around exasperated.

"You know when you get angry at dumb things, your nose turns red," Totem informed him. On the other side of Hawk, Totem's second brother Stoic snorted.

"It's true," Stoic laughed as Hawk proceeded to turn redder. "You're like a watermelon or whatever."

"Watermelons are green on the outside," Hawk mumbled.

"Or whatever," Stoic grinned. Swinging around so that he was on the other side of Totem. "I'm getting all teary eyed. Today is going to be your last reaping sis, big milestone. Our wittle itty wity wister is gwowing up," he said squeezing her cheek. Totem pushed Stoic away, laughing.

"Oh yeah, it's tragic," she said rolling her eyes. "I don't know how you two are going to live without having to drive me to school every day."

"When you become a big shot pilot, you're totally taking me to the capitol," Stoic declared.

"That involves stealing another hovercraft, and leaving the District without the mayor's permission. I don't know if Hawk can handle that kind of stress,"

"Just go get checked in," Hawk muttered shooting them both steely glances. Totem's laughter hung in the air as she strolled over and checked in. She picked a spot in the back, next to a girl named Aria that she had gone to school with since she was little.

On stage the Mayor Trayston was talking to Mazy Dazy, the escort, a strained look on his face. Totem absently wondered if the man was apologizing for her antics earlier. If he was, then she wished she could hear exactly what they were saying. Now that would be entertaining.

A loud mechanized dong sounded through the square, and the Mayor Trayston turned away, walking over to microphone. Totem groaned aloud as he started the usual blubbering. The man sure was stiff about his speech too with his perfect posture and rich-guy expression. Whatever, at least this would be the last year she'd have to be here. Most of District Six's pilots got to work during the reaping as a lot of the rich capitolites considered this time of year prime traveling season.

Soon enough he finished speaking, and Mazy Dazy the District Six escort strutted up to the podium. Her bright magenta skin practically glowed under the bright mid day sun. "Hello again everyone," she gurgled out. Totem held in a snort. Mazy must have gotten her vocal cords altered because she sounded like she was underwater. Walking over to the girl's bowl, the woman reached for the girl's name.

"Totem Earhart."

For a minute Totem just stared at the crazy purple woman completely baffled. But the silent shock didn't last very long. On a very unladylike impulse, Totem's feelings surged through her moth, leaving her lips in a one word summary:

"Shit."

* * *

Conner Trayston, 14

* * *

Conner's moth dropped open as the girl tribute cussed in front of the entire world. The crowd seemed to unfreeze on her command, the sea of kids parting for her to walk to the stage. In the family section, two men started to freak out. Both lunged forwards towards the girl, although only one made it. The first was an older balding man, maybe her father, before he could cross the line into the wall of reaping teenagers, a black haired man put him in a headlock as they both watched the girl walk uneasily to the stage.

The second guy looked younger, just past reaping age probably. Conner assumed he was a brother or cousin of the girl. Unlike the man, he didn't have someone restraining him. He lunged under the line and made a bee-line for the girl. "Totem," he was screaming as if he could save her. Two peacekeepers ran over to stop him, but the charging man was prepared. He decked the first peacekeeper, fists flying. Soon enough though, he was overwhelmed. An entire hoard of peacekeepers dragged him away, leaving a trail of blood behind them.

Conner clicked his tongue in distaste. His father wasn't going to be happy about this showing. The girl cursing, her brother assaulting a peacekeeper, it reflected badly on the district. Conner himself was still in shock that girl had actually allowed herself to say something so unscrupulous. That was almost worse than the fight. Even fully civilized men lose their tempers sometimes, but cursing? That somehow was on an entire new level of unruly rudeness. He'd only heard someone curse once before, and well, that was in an extenuating circumstance.

"Ah, for the boys," Ms. Dazy said.

"Conner Trayston."

He froze feeling the terror creeping into him. At his sides his hands started shake almost violently, and he felt that they would never go still again. He was the mayor's son, shouldn't there be some kind of rule against him being picked? He tried to imagine himself in the arena, acting like a barbaric animal. Suddenly he felt very sick.

It almost made things worse that his classmates were all breathing sighs of relief. He had no friends. No one would miss him. All of his peers thought him too uptight. They were all probably jumping for joy that someone so alone had been picked.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the peacekeepers mobilize, and for a second a feeling of pure panic overwhelmed him. He lurched forward, running up onto the stage. He would not have them touching him, not after they all just beat up that girl's brother. He stumbled up onto the stage, feeling lost. Desperately he grappled to compose himself. It would mean the world to his father if he could just hold himself together.

But it was too late. On his cheek he felt a lone tear roll down, tumbling hopelessly to the earth.

* * *

Totem Earhart, 18

* * *

Totem stood in the very center of the justice building, her mouth still open as she tried to process the last twenty minutes. They didn't seem real to her yet. She was still suffering from some kind of denial. All she could see was that awful crazed look on Hawk's face as the peacekeepers surrounded him. He had been calling her name.

The door opened and suddenly her Uncle's arms were around her, in a deep hug. This in itself was surreal to her. Her family joked and played pranks on each other. Hugging was just too serious.

"Totem," his voice cracked. She pulled away, looking into his face confused. He was crying. Sadness didn't fit his features. "I know that you're not my daughter. But, you, and your brothers, you've all been the best kids a parent could have ever hoped for." Totem could feel her heart breaking.

"I'm not dead yet Uncle Henry," was all she could muster to say.

"See, that's right, she's not dead yet," Stoic's voice called from her Uncle. He pushed the balding man out of the way, hugging his sister tightly. "She's going to go to the arena, make those careers look like fools, and then come home to us rich and famous."

"Yeah, what Stoic said," Totem nodded. She looked around the room, noting that Hawk wasn't there. "Where's-" she began to ask.

"The peacekeepers, they disappeared with him," Uncle Henry answered sadly.

"Oh," she mumbled. For a minute there was silence as she soaked in Uncle Henry and Stoic's faces. She couldn't remember a time before this. Her parents both died in an accident years ago, and every since it had been the four of them against the world. Uncle Henry wasn't even her real Uncle, he was her god-father. Her life had been a constant practical joke- her and her boys. Well, it seemed like the party was coming to an abrupt end.

"Well, he'll be sad that he couldn't see me off before I won," she said, injecting as much confidence into her voice as she could muster.

The peacekeepers knocked on the door. Time was up.

"Hey Uncle Henry," she said suddenly. "In case I don't see you again. You weren't half bad a dad yourself."

The door shut with a bang, leaving her wondering if the man had even heard her.

* * *

Conner Trayston, 14

* * *

Conner's father walked into the room slowly with a hesitant formality in his posture. It was Conner who broke the tension first.

"I'm really sorry," he said tears running down his cheeks. "I tried not to cry, I really did."

His father jerkily put his hands on his son's shoulders. "I don't care," he said, pulling the boy into a hug. "I don't care. You did great Conner. Just like your going to do great in the games."

"No one is going to want to be my ally," Conner said miserably.

"But you will be able to get sponsors. You know how to please the people, you don't have to please the other tributes. Just remember all the stuff I've taught you. Then you can come home, and maybe be mayor one day, just like we planned," the man said vehemently. "Okay?"

"Okay," Conner mumbled back.

"I love you."

"I love you too dad."

The two Trayston men hugged until the peacekeepers knocked. Then they said their cordial goodbyes, and went on their teary ways.

* * *

**A/N: No more reapings! They're done. Alright, so here's what I'm going to do. **

**First off there is a poll up on my profile. I want to know your top three favorite tributes are because I'm really curious. I'll let you know who wins when I finish getting all the votes in.**

**I'm going to do two train ride chapters next, six districts in each chapter. Then we'll see where things go from there.**


	15. Train Rides: Part 1

District 1:

Eros Cunningham (18) and Autumn Mistveil (17)

* * *

Eros strutted onto the train first, feeling irritated. His father had come to say goodbye to him, and the two had gotten into an argument. The man seemed completely oblivious to why it was important to pick up his son from the Tribute Academy day is son's graduation day. Eros was actually surprised that his father had remembered to say goodbye to him at all.

Sinking into the plush couch that was set up in the middle of the train, he took a deep breath, letting the stress seep out of his system. This was it. He was on his way to the Games. The grin twisted onto his face without him even realizing it.

"Don't look too excited," a voice said from behind him. "We haven't even gotten to the capitol yet."

Eros almost turned, his eyes lighting up as he saw a muscular young man around his age biting into a muffin. "Sterling right? You're going to be my mentor?" Eros asked standing up and offering his hand.

"Yup," he nodded, grinning "And you're Eros. They tell me that you plan on stealing all my fans."

Eros laughed, shooting his mentor a cocky grin. "It's not my fault that I'm hotter than you," he boasted.

Sterling rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't go that far. I mean, you're just the hot thing _right now_. They'll forget about you once you're all good and dead." The tribute's mouth curved into a smirk. Right, like he was going to die.

At that moment, Autumn walked in with her mother walking close behind her. They were talking amiably about something or other, and though Eros couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, something about the girl was different from the one he had been observing in the academy. This Autumn seemed more relaxed, more present as she chatted with her mother. Her eyes lacked their usual thoughtful distance.

Before either of the two Mistveils broke from their conversation, Eros shot Sterling a devilish wink.

"Nice to see that you two have finally decided to show up for the party. It was no fun just me and Eros here. We needed some women with us," he called cheerfully, flashing his camera ready grin.

The two girls rolled their eyes at him. Sparkle even went as far as groaning. "Great we have another one," she muttered shooting Sterling a slightly annoyed glare. The second mentor snorted at Sparkle's expression and put his hands up as if to declare his innocence.

"You haven't started watching the game recap have you?" Autumn asked, a thoughtful line forming between her eyebrows.

"No, we haven't," Eros answered. Walking over to Autumn he held out his hand to her. "I don't believe we've formally met," he said in a slightly seductive voice. Usually that would have been enough to make any District One girl swoon; however, Autumn just smiled at him, an amused glint in her eye. She had known Sterling long enough to be used to these kinds of antics.

"I'm Autumn," she said.

"Eros," he responded.

She took his hand, and he gripped her's back. For a minute the room filled with a deadly silence as they stared bravely into each other's eyes, both of them clearly sizing up their competition. After several moments of silence, Sterling's coughs in the background snapped the tension out of them instantly.

"Well, now that you two have met. I say we check out who your allies are going to be," he said.

Sparkle nodded. "Yes, and please remember who your allies are," she said, exchanging a look with her daughter. Autumn didn't have to be told anything else to receive her mother's message loud and clear. Something must have worried the woman when Autumn had shook hands with her District partner. Clearly Sparkle wanted Autumn to know: Eros was to be trusted. It made sense of course. People didn't like victors who killed their District partners.

She supposed that it wouldn't be terrible partnering up with him though. In school she may not have had many friends as she was too quiet, but this situation was different. The tentative friendship she was to form with Eros was more like the bonds between her mother and the other victors back at home.

"Let's watch the recap," Autumn said before Eros could think too much on her mother's words. Eros nodded, and the two tributes walked over to the couch, sitting in front of the television. The screen flickered to life, beginning with their reaping, but neither of the two paid attention as their faces were broadcast across Panem.

They began, of course, by watching themselves volunteer. Eros noted that Autumn appeared even more reserved on the television than in person. That look was back. The one that seemed half present and half not, as if she was always thinking about something very important.

"District Two looks good," Autumn muttered as the reaping continued. On the screen two blonde teenagers were waving to their District- the boy looking aloof and the girl looking full of herself. Both of them radiated danger. No doubt they would be good allies in the beginning, but at the same time, they would have to be watched.

"I guess they're not terrible," Eros allowed skeptically. "I wonder how much that boy can see without his glasses though?"

The screen continued, revealing two pip-squeaks from District Three, before continuing on to District Four. Autumn leaned forward, hanging onto every moment of suspense as she waited to find out who her final two allies would be. As expected a girl stepped up volunteering, but by the time she was on stage, it was clear something was amiss.

"Is she shaking?" Eros laughed aloud. "Like in fear? She might as well be like that kid from three, the one who was crying for mommy to come save him."

"It looks like she is," Autumn mumbled frowning. Hopefully the boy tribute would make up for this girl's obvious terror. It wasn't uncommon for Four to skimp the career pack on one of their tributes when the second was particularly formidable. But when the escort read the words 'Foster Finner' from the reaping bowl, the teenagers of Four were remarkably silent. Eros laughed again, extremely amused.

"Well, it looks like the odds really our in our favor," he snorted.

* * *

District 2

Kegan Capiton (16) and Chateaux Masona (16)

* * *

Chateaux had to stop her jaw from dropping to the floor as the fourteen year old boy from District Four stood on the stage, silence sweeping across the crowd. "Where's the volunteer," she demanded angrily. This was not the way things went. The career pack needed solid talent from Four to make sure they had a concrete advantage. She felt personally insulted that they would send an unprepared _reaped_ boy to the Games. It was like, against protocol or something.

A few feet behind her, Kegan snorted. "Clearly there isn't one this year. Or maybe, you're blind," he sneered, enunciating the final word. Chateaux shot her District partner an annoyed look.

"Are you going to be bitter about that little blip for the rest of the games?" she asked moodily. Chloe, Saily, Jamine, and she had just been joking around with him. It wasn't her fault that he had completely overreacted to their jokes. Well, maybe Chloe and Jamine hadn't been joking, they might have actually meant all the things they had said, but Chateaux hadn't. She never cared one way or another for Kegan. She was just going with the flow, nothing he should be shooting her over.

Kegan blinked at the girl, feeling irritated. "I believe you have a slightly misguided definition of the phrase 'little blip'. Both of those imply that those instances were trivial, perhaps even completely inconsequential. Clearly they were not though, as you cost my family three hundred pounds to replace my broken glasses, and possibly cost yourself a necessary ally in the arena. Especially with District Four being weak this year. I would be very careful about the words you choose right now, because that 'little blip' might cost you your life," he hissed dangerously. He knew he was walking a precariously thin rope, threatening his District partner with desertion, but he didn't really care at the moment. From the moment Chateaux had stepped onto the train she had been treating him like he was still the scrawny little new kid she had bullied years ago, and he had had enough. He would have her respect, or he would not ally with her at all in the arena.

Chateaux's mouth opened and closed again in rage. Who was this loser, thinking he could talk to her like that? She had half a mind to tell him that she'd pay for his funeral if he was that upset about things, but something stopped her. She couldn't help but hear Zia's parting words echoing in her head: _play the way your dad would've wanted you to play._ Chateaux wasn't sure about many things in her life, but she did know one thing. Her father would not have been proud of the way she had treated Kegan in the past, or the way she had planned on treating him just then.

"Look. I want us to be allies in the arena," she told him honestly. "I don't really care what you think of me, but we are both going to be better off if the alliance has as few holes in it as possible, especially with Four looking so freaking weak this year. So let's just pretend to like each other for the show, and then we can slaughter each other when the time comes." There, that was sort of decent, she thought to herself.

Kegan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and suddenly he felt moderately guilty. Now she looked like the controlled one, striving for compromise. He had let his emotions cloud his judgement, something that he couldn't afford. "We'll be allies then," he said, shooting her a slightly sarcastic smile. He would be more careful in the future. This would be a constant game of chess with his District partner.

"Come on and let's finish up the reaping recap then before my mother shows back up and starts bossing us around," Chateaux snapped, turning back to the screen.

Kegan looked over his shoulder at the door. He had forgotten that her mother was a victor. He added that to his mental list of Chateaux's assets, or maybe to her disadvantages. It didn't sound like she was on very good terms with the woman. Whatever, though. The train hadn't even left the station yet, but the mind Games were already beginning.

Lucky for Kegan, he was very good at chess.

* * *

District 3

Leighton Blitz (15) and Annabelle Mechan (13)

* * *

Belle sat on the posh sofa, her chin resting on her knees as she watched the buildings slowly shrink in size outside the window. The huge District Three city was long gone now, and the odds were that she wouldn't be seeing it again. She resisted the urge to whimper again. The boy tribute was doing enough crying for the both of them. He had been sitting in the corner by himself since they had stepped onto the train. Belle had tried to talk to him earlier, but he was obviously too distressed to talk. Then he had flat-out asked her to leave him alone, so that's what she did.

Instead she had been busying herself by talking to Carlton Oddyseus, her new escort, as the two watched the reaping recap together. They had stopped replaying the actual footage from the reaping by now, and had moved on to just showing short profiles of all of the tributes. Looking at all of them, Belle felt hopelessly outmatched. There was only one boy who was younger than her this year, which didn't mean good things for her chances.

Carlton was making her feel better though. He was really grumpy and unpleasant, just the way Cable was when he was having a bad day. It was a stretch comparing this weird capitol man with deep purple hair to her best friend, but still, it was a minuscule taste from home.

"So tell me girl, you think you have a chance?" Carlton asked, frowning down at her.

Belle hesitated. Her immediate answer was to say no, but maybe that wasn't true. Cable did teach her a little bit about fighting and survival skills, and she really didn't want Carlton thinking she was weak. "Yeah, I do," she answered smiling at the man.

"Really," he said almost sarcastically, his light orange skin pulling slightly where his eyebrow should have been.

"Yeah. I know how to use a knife and what plants to eat," Belle replied, a feeling of confidence growing as she spoke. It felt good talking things out like this. "My friend taught me all about this stuff in the woods."

Carlton made a gritty sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh. "Really?" he asked suddenly very interested.

In the corner, Leighton watched with an empty jealously in his gut. It was no secret that Carlton Odysseus had been pining for a new victor. District Three hadn't had a winner since Sparky Nuetro won the Fifty-Fourth Games. Well it had been ten years since then, and Carlton was getting antsy. Clearly he thought that little thirteen year old girl had a better chance than Leighton did. He felt tears sting his eyes again.

He missed his mother and his home. So what if half the kids in the District liked using Leighton as their personal punching bag? At least he was alive. Now he wouldn't get a chance to become something useful. His mother told him that he was just a late bloomer and that things would get better eventually. Well, it looks like he wouldn't be getting the chance to bloom at all. Leighton held no illusions. He wouldn't be winning the Hunger Games. That much was clear to everyone, even himself.

With his luck, he'd just end up dying in the blood bath. He probably wouldn't even get to have one of those noble deaths that some tributes had. Nope, he'd be forgotten the minute some career tough guy career knifed him or something thirty seconds after the game started. Then he'd just be a number on a kill count.

So yeah, he was going to cry in a corner for as long as he wanted to. Because he deserved some time to grieve over his lost life. It was all he had left.

* * *

District 4

Foster Finner (14) and Kyla Brooke (16)

* * *

Foster took his sweet time sauntering up to the train. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders were relaxed, a subtle mischievous smile was molded in his features. He had insisted on waiting an extra fifteen minutes to see if Paylor would show up to say goodbye, but after it was clear his brother wasn't coming, he decided it was time to go. By now he had probably thrown the train off schedule; however, he knew there would be some cameras on him as while he boarded, and he wanted to show the Capitol that he was relaxed and ready, even if he was reaped. When he came up on the hoard of camera men and journalists that surrounded the roped off walkway to the train door, he even waved to them excitedly. No body would have guessed that on the inside he was boiling with an untamable outrage at his brother.

Once inside, he let his composed demeanor cascade off of him, an irritated scowl waxing onto his features almost immediately. Three people were inside the compartment waiting for him. Immediately his eyes met his Aunt's.

"Well, I didn't think I'd be seeing you today," she smiled at him ruefully.

"Me neither, Paylor that jerk," Foster grumbled back.

"Well, at least your mother can stop bugging me now," Foster's aunt sighed. "She was a little overboard with the long speeches about Paylor's greatness. I mean I love your brother, but it was a little much."

That made Foster smile because he knew exactly what his Aunt was talking about. Throwing his arms around her in a grateful hug, he smiled. "Good to see you again Aunt Coral," he said. She returned the embrace.

"Back at you kiddo," she said.

With the little family reunion over with, Foster twisted around, finding Kyla sitting with a grisly man at the dining table, picking at some of the delectable food that had been spread out for them. He nodded to her. "Hey," he said almost formally.

She nodded back. "Hey," she responded weakly. Foster stifled a sigh. Kyla really wasn't that impressive of a district partner, not the way normal careers were. He knew she was pretty capable with a javelin, but there was something off with her mental game. Her heart just wasn't in it the way most tributes were, and mental stability was vital in the Games.

Finner didn't know the half of it.

Kyla had walked onto the train feeling emotionally drained and exhausted. It was obvious that she had been crying as her big turquoise eyes were red and puffy. The minute she walked onto the train the mentors were there waiting for them. The last thing she needed today was Dylan Hays walking up to her and introducing himself. She knew who he was immediately of course, he had mentored both of her brothers in the previous games. Just seeing his face was like a knife to the chest. All she could think is that he was probably the last real friend her brothers had had before they moved on to their deaths. And while most people might feel grateful towards him, all she could feel was a burning jealousy.

Since she had boarded the train, all she had been able to say to him was hello. Even her introduction had been sub par.

Kyla watched as Finner walked in and sat down on the coach with Coral Windsor. He seemed so relaxed on the train, analyzing their opponents like this was what he did every day. Kyla wondered if he knew exactly how dire their situation was. Probably not, his aunt was a victor after all.

"I think we should join them," Dylan Hays suddenly said beside Kyla. She glanced at him, feeling even more tired. "You need to start putting your head in the game."

"It's been a long day," Kyla mumbled, having no desire look over this year's tribute pool. All she would see in all of their faces would be her killer.

"I know," Dylan said sympathetically. Kyla saw her own exhausted expression mirrored in his eyes. "But One and Two already are going to be thinking that you're weak. You need to make sure that Finner is on your side. You will be better off if you can trust at least one of your allies in the career pack to take watch at night."

Kyla glanced over her shoulder at Finner. She supposed he didn't seem like that bad of a guy. At the very least he seemed a bit more down to earth than his brother, Paylor, who she'd thought would be her District Partner.

"Alright," Kyla sighed, standing up.

She promised her family she would at least try to get home, and she knew befriending that kid would be the first steps.

* * *

District 5

Layton Cross (15) and Luna Morristeen (14)

* * *

Layton sat in the chair with his legs crossed and back straight. Gently he rocked forwards and backwards, a rhythm forming. His District partner, the girl with the strange eyes sat in a chair on the other side of the compartment, she hadn't spoken to him at all since she boarded the train. He assumed that it was because she didn't like him very much. That's generally what it meant when people weren't talking to him. It was probably because he had told her that her eyes were weird during the reaping. Well, it wasn't meant like an insult, he was telling the truth after all.

Finally, he couldn't take the silence anymore. "Hi," he tried nervously.

The girl looked up at him abruptly, like he had just startled her. "Hi," she replied, her voice hoarse from crying.

"I'm Layton," he said as he rocked forward again.

"I'm Luna," the girl responded quietly.

"Are your eyes genetic or something?" Layton went on impulsively. He couldn't help himself. Even if she thought he was odd, he was curious and just had to know. The layers of multi-colored rings fascinated him.

The girl shrugged. "I'm the only one in my family that has them-" she hesitated"- well except for my sister," she added quietly. "She used to have my eyes too."

"Used to have? What is she dead?" Layton asked confused. The girl nodded, looking like she was going to cry again. "Oh," Layton mumbled looking at his feet again.

He turned his attention to the television, watching the faces of the other tributes flash on the screen. They were going through District Nine right now, showing a little boy, twelve years old, who had a dark purple bruise on his cheek. Layton wondered how the kid had gotten it. Unfortunately he wasn't with the boy, so he couldn't ask him. The screen went on, showing more faces. By the time it started looping around to the beginning Districts again, he was feeling jumpy. This train car was too small for him to really move around in. Nevertheless he stood up and started pacing. This would have to do for now.

"Oh look, he has my name," Layton blurted out when the District Three boy popped up. "Leighton. It's just spelled differently. That's weird, usually District Three has techy names. Maybe he's nice. I mean he's got to be nice with a name like Leighton. And I bet he'll like me. We're like name twins or something."

Luna felt like she was going to explode. Layton was blabbering left and right, filling her mind with his words when what she really wanted was silence. She told herself not to be frustrated with him, this was probably just his way of coping. Still though, he was starting to get on her nerves.

She tried to tune him out by staring at the screen, watching the names as they went by. She couldn't help but count how many big muscular boys were on the list this year. The male tributes from One, Two, Eight, Ten, and Eleven, were all muscular and strapping. How was she going to fight these older kids? She felt the pit of lonliness forming again. If only she could talk to Ignacio one last time, he would know what to do. He always did. Or maybe if her mom or dad was there, they would help too.

It was cruel how the minute she found out just how much her mother actually cared, she would be ripped away from her. Luna would even be happy to wake up and have the woman ignoring her at this point. She just missed her family.

"Maybe he actually isn't that nice," Layton was babbling, not even looking to see if Luna was listening anymore. "Watch, I won't have any allies because this other Leighton is going to be some kind of monster good tribute in the game."

"Layton?" Luna said softly.

He looked up, the dismay in his eyes vanishing immediately. "Yeah?" he responded, his eyebrows raised.

"Would you mind being quiet just for a minute, so I can think?" Luna asked, making sure that she sounded extra nice. She didn't want to be mean about telling him to shut up.

"Oh," he said, frowning for a moment. "Okay sure."

Luna sighed, leaning her head back onto the chair, and closed her eyes for a minute, enjoying the peace for just a moment.

* * *

District 6:

Conner Trayston (14) and Totem Earhart (18)

* * *

Totem fell backwards onto the coach, listening to the sound the cushion made as all the air seeped out of it. Despite being a native to District Six all her life, she had never been on a train before. Hovercrafts were more her speed. It was impressive though, the train. The fancy wall paper, soft carpet, and hand-made furniture reminded her much more of a home than a vehicle. Clearly this kind of transportation was made for more of a mobile life than just a method to get from one place to the next. It was nice, she supposed, but still, she missed flying.

There was no point in dwelling on the past now though. She knew that she had a chance in the arena, but winning would mean taking every step right. There was no room for distractions.

About five minutes after Totem sat down, Conner stumbled in, tears still running down his face. Totem smirked at him. Despite everything that had happened over the past hour, not a hair was out-of-place in the boys get up. The only sign of any trauma was in his runny nose and puffy eyes. What really cracked her up though was when he pulled out his pocket square and started blotting his cheeks with it.

"What's so funny?" the boy asked defensively.

"Think you could loosen up a bit kid? I mean you're just headed towards certain death, no need to be so formal about it," Totem said pointing to the cloth in his hand. A crooked smile played across her mischievous face.

Conner's face burned a bright red almost immediately as he carefully folded the cloth and replaced it into the front pocket of his jacket. "It's my dad's," he said defensively.

"Oh and I delicately pat my cheeks with all of my dad's old things," Totem snorted. "In fact, if you're ever looking for me, I'll be in the bathroom rubbing my father's wrench against my face."

"This is what pocket squares are meant for. It's polite to use them this way instead of just wiping all the gross snot off your face on your sleeve," Conner muttered.

Totem stared at the boy for a second, wondering how he could be so dense. Honestly, polite society was for people who weren't planning on murdering twenty-three other kids in an arena with medieval weaponry. "You're Mayor Trayston's son?" she clarified quickly.

"Yeah, why?" he confirmed.

"That clears things up," Totem nodded to herself. Mayor Trayston was possibly the stiffest person in the entire District. It's no wonder his son was such a 'polite society' kid. The man had called the peacekeepers on Totem multiple times for various minor infractions against the safety of the public. Namely flying a hovercraft too low to the ground when she was out on one of her joy rides. Luckily she didn't find out that she wasn't technically a pilot. Then she would have been in for something really bad.

"What's that supposed to mean," Conner asked indignantly. This wasn't the first time someone had asked if he was the mayors son like it was some sort of explanation, and it annoyed him to no end. What did it matter who his father was? Conner was more than just the son of Mayor Trayston.

"Well you're just a lot like him, that's all. You're both sticklers for rules and crap like that," Totem explained honestly. There was no point in sugar-coating things for the kid. Obviously it wasn't like she planned on allying herself with him. She'd be ready to wring his neck out ten minutes into the Games.

Conner glared at Totem, trying to think of something clever to say. Unfortunately nothing came to mind. "I'm going to go check out my room," he said, sniffling again. Totem sighed as she watched the boy go. He didn't stand a chance.

Conner felt his face burning with tears and embarrassment as he walked quickly down the hallway. So much for making an alliance with his District partner. Not that he was really planning on it anyway. He had subconsciously ruled her out the minute she had cursed during the reaping.

He missed his home desperately, but more than that, he really just wanted a friend right now. He didn't have any back in the District, but there were capitol kids that used to come to his house on business trips with their parents. He occasionally played with them, though they weren't the most friendly company. Before them though, there was Lassie Hunton. She was the only real friend he ever had. Just thinking about her made him lonely.

That night was still plastered in his mind like it had happened yesterday. They were both twelve and she had come knocking on his door, demanding that they go out and have some fun. It was the first night Conner had ever gone out without some form of tie on, and oh the fun they had. They did so many things that night, not all of which were legal, strictly speaking. Just thinking about the sound of peacekeeper feet chasing him sent a current of adrenaline rushing through his system.

But then just a few weeks after, Lassie had disappeared, just like smoke. Poof. He hadn't seen her since.

Conner plodded into a room that had a plaque with his name written on the door. Inside was a small bedroom with modern furniture and tasteful decorations lining the walls. His room at home was just a bit bigger than this one.

He laid down carefully on the perfectly ironed sheets, as not to mess them up. They were still warm, like they had just been taken out of the dryer, and had a sweet clean perfume to them. Conner let himself cry for a few minutes, letting the infernal loneliness take him. The tears fell onto the sheets and he didn't even bother drying them with his pocket square.

Suddenly there was a creak from the far corner of the room as someone exited the bathroom that was located there. Conner looked up, taking out his cloth to wipe his eyes. He didn't want anyone to see him crying like this. Walking through the room with an armful of clean towels was a petite girl with long black hair and electric blue eyes. Conner's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Lassie?" he croaked, not believing his eyes.

The girl in front of him looked up, surprised. Almost immediately, her blue eyes seemed to melt as utter terror filled her features. Some small inhuman sound escaped her throat. Before Conner could even respond, she was gone. Her nimble body fled the room, darting down the hallway with incredible speed. At first Conner stood to follow her. He didn't know why or how she was here, just that he needed to speak with her. He wanted to ask her a million questions, but more than that, he needed a friend. He stopped himself though. Something was off with her. That noise she had made, it wasn't normal. She sort of sounded like a dying rabbit.

Then the two facts connected in his mind like an explosive wire, crackling to life. Her disappearance, that noise, it all mad such horrible sense. She was an Avox. He had met a few before when the Capitol people visited his house. They had cut out her tongue.

The words exited his mouth as quiet as a shallow breath. "Oh Lassie. Who did this to you?"

* * *

**A/N: Bam! 5000 word chapter in like four days. Pretty impressive huh? I was really excited to be writing something that wasn't a reaping.**

**The results of the poll were really interesting. The clear favorite is Raven who came out with a huge 7 votes. Tied for second was Autumn, Kyla, Colleen, and Roland. And then Kegan, Lindon, Terra, Skye, and Roan came in third with 2 votes each. Eros, Chateaux, Foster, Totem, and Cassia all got 1 vote.**

**There is a new poll up. This time it's who do you think will win (I'm giving everyone 2 votes because its hard to choose just 1). Again this will have our affect on the outcome. I already know the victor. But I think polls are fun and I'm interested I seeing what you guys think. **

**Hope you liked this chapter, I sure did.**


	16. Train Rides: Part 2

District 7:

Lindon Lizar (15) and Terra Oasis (15)

* * *

Dangerous. That was how he felt. Walking onto the train, his face turned scarlet with anger, he wanted nothing more than to murder someone. Honestly, the Games would probably come easy to him now. He could picture just them all, sitting in their warm cozy homes celebrating because that wretched Lindon boy would be out of their hair for good. Well just wait. When he came back home, their lives would be miserable, and he would laugh because of it. He'd see just who would have the last laugh.

The inside of the train compartment was empty, which only infuriated him more. Within minutes of entering the fancy room, he was pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Where was that wretched Terra? He needed someone to calm him down. Watching her cower in fear would most certainly bring at least something positive into this day.

He heard the footsteps on the steps outside the train before he saw her. A few seconds later the door swung open, revealing his District partner. For a minute he felt a pang of disappointment. Her face was blank, almost bored actually, and though her cheeks were wet from crying, she didn't look like she would be continuing any time soon. Her hazel eyes flicked around the compartment, a look of amusement itching its way onto her face as she brushed over the luxury food set up for them on the table. When she finally spotted Lindon, her head cocked to the side and her eyebrow went up. A laugh full of some kind of sadistic glee sang through the air.

"You," she said with an evil grin. "You're the one who got picked with Terra?"

Lindon's disappointment vanished instantly. Oh, how he did love Glen. "Where's Terra?" Lindon asked curiously.

"Cowering in fear," Glen replied nonchalantly. "Why? You like her better than me?"

"It depends on the day," Lindon shrugged.

"I'm going to kill you first in the arena," Glen said, his lips twisting into a grin.

"Really? I don't think that Terra would approve. She's already agreed to be in my alliance. You'd best just play along with her, if you want to live," Lindon responded easily. Of course Terra hadn't agreed to be his ally, but Glen had no way of knowing that. It didn't matter though. Once Terra returned, he would be sure to inform her that she would be his in the arena. He was never one to do anything on his own, and he needed someone that he could control to be with him. She would accept his terms of course because she wouldn't have any other choice.

Glen wasn't phased by Lindon's threat though. In fact, he actually found it amusing. "And how long do you think Terra will be with you in the Games? She's weak you know. She won't be able to handle the stress of it for long," he sneered happily.

Lindon frowned. Glen had a point, and the last thing Lindon needed was for Terra to loose herself at an inconvenient moment. He could end up getting stabbed in his sleep. "She won't live long enough for you to take over," Lindon replied easily, not showing any sign of doubt. Yes that would do. He would just have to keep her on a tight rope, and then be sure the careers got her before things turned bad.

Glen smiled, excitement playing across his face. "We'll see," he whispered. "We'll see."

* * *

District 8:

Raven Textan (17) and Colleen Reyna (16)

* * *

Raven tapped his foot impatiently as he stared the television screen. He had stopped paying attention once District Three came up. His thoughts kept being dragged away by some invisible force before landing on his family. His mother's face seemed to be plastered into the front of his mind. That moment in the justice building, it had been the first time she had hugged him in over ten years.

The sound of the compartment door sliding open snapped him out of his thoughts immediately. His head jerked up, and the foggy look drained from his eyes. Colleen was here, he needed to come back to the present. Immediately he rose to his feet.

"This kind of sucks huh?" he said tiredly as he strode over to her, holding out his hand again.

Colleen stared at it for a moment. She was feeling so overwhelmed. It was like the entire world had been flung at her in one violently sudden instant, and now she was expected to cope with everything flawlessly. First she got reaped, then Callico sort of declared his love for her in the justice building, and now this. She knew who Raven Textan was alright. His father was rich beyond belief and he was one of the most popular kids in school. He was just the sort of person that would never talk to her.

"I'm sure you already know this, but my name is Raven," her District partner went on as she stared at his hand. He had been mildly expecting this. Tributes from District Eight usually ended up being loners in the arena. It was like they all walked onto the train just assuming that no one would want them in an alliance, so they didn't try.

Colleen just continued to stare at his hand, not knowing what to do. This was foreign ground to her. She didn't have friends. Social interaction wasn't her thing. It was Raven's however. If he was good at one thing, it was reading social cues. He knew a nervous anti-social girl when he saw one.

"I think the first step would be to take my hand," Raven smiled, as if reading her thoughts.

Her mouth dropped open for a second before she shook his hand. "Now's the part where you tell me you're name," Raven went on.

"Lena," Colleen replied, then realizing that he knew her by her full first name, she turned red. Maybe she should have mentioned that it was her nickname. Is that what people did when they were introducing themselves- said their full names first then went on to say their nicknames? Raven didn't look all that confused though. Maybe she hadn't done anything wrong after all.

"Well Lena, tell me if I'm being too forward or something, but would you like to be in my alliance?" Raven asked.

Lena didn't know how to respond to that. She hadn't even thought about the Games yet. It was all too much to process. Should she have an alliance at all?

"Um, I don't know," she stuttered out nervously. Oops, she shouldn't have said that. He probably thought that she sounded stupid. At home, Austin or Emmy would have done all this talking for her, or maybe Calico would've. Gosh she missed Calico.

Raven didn't miss a beat though. He just nodded, giving her a patient sad smile. "Sorry, you're probably feeling a bit overwhelmed right now," he said with an understanding nod. Walking back over to the coach, he sat back down again, looking at the television. They were showing a burly looking boy from Ten now.

He was right of course, the sorrow was inundating Lena, drowning her in her own grief. She wanted to be alone really, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the compartment. Deep down she knew she should accept Raven's offer. She probably wouldn't be getting another chance to join an alliance. Silence echoed around the room as she shakily closed the compartment door behind her and went to sit down in a chair situated in the corner of the room

Raven waited for the television to loop back to the beginning districts before he began to speak again. "One and Two look strong this year," he said. Lena glanced up, catching a quick glimpse of the girl from District Two. Her heart dropped.

"We can't let them win you know," Raven went on. "District One has had two victors in a row, and then all of the tributes from Two and Four are barbaric. It's sick how much they play into the Capitol's hands, celebrating like their deaths are some kind of honor. Then the rest of the Districts have to suffer as their tributes die year after year. None of us really have that much of a chance you know."

Lena looked at the ground, feeling the hopelessness creep into her as he spoke. It really was so impossible, the thought that she would win.

"I want District Eight to have a victor this year though," Raven told her. "If it's not me I want it to be you."

She looked up into his crystal blue eyes, feeling sad. "And what if it's not either of us?" she asked as the tears threatened to pour out of her.

"Then it's going to be someone else in our alliance," Raven responded, his features growing serious.

"Our alliance?" Lena asked, her voice hoarse.

"Sure, the careers aren't the only ones that can group up with other Districts. If we find enough of the right people, we could challenge them," Raven said firmly. He pointed at the screen, which was showing a huge eighteen year old boy from Eleven. "If we can find four or five other people from the outer Districts, like that guy, we could just give the careers a run for their money."

Lena opened her mouth and closed it again. For a moment a sliver of hope ran through her. She didn't know what she had done to deserve a spot in an alliance like this. She didn't have any special skills or anything, but it was a chance.

"Hey Rollag, it looks like we got two fighter this year," a voice said from the entrance called. Both tributes turned their heads towards the sound, finding a Lea Paylor leaning against the door frame with a small smile playing across her face. "It's about time."

* * *

District 9:

Velt Ganger (12) and Skye Ager (14)

* * *

Velt hugged his knees to his chest as he watched District Nine fade in the distance. They had passed the last field of wheat a few minutes ago, and the boy's eyes were glued to the spot on the horizon where the stalks were drifting with the wind. He felt guilty about the relief that filled him when the field disappeared all together. This wasn't how he was supposed to be feeling knowing he'd probably never see his siblings again. Reaching up he gingerly touched his bruised cheek. Wincing, the guilt abated slightly. He knew they understood.

"What happened to your cheek?" a girl's voice asked quietly from the coach. Velt glanced over towards his District partner, feeling nervous.

"Nothing," he muttered back, looking at the ground.

Skye frowned, looking sympathetically at the boy. When she had first seen his face, her gut had twisted in fear. If she ignored Velt's dark green eyes, he could easily pass as an older Demetrius. Her heart squeezed just thinking about her younger brother.

"Did you put ice on it?" Skye asked.

Velt snuck another look at her, surprised. "Yeah, my sister told me to," he said.

"Oh, good," Skye muttered back before returning her eyes to the ground. She felt oddly empty now that she was away from her family. All the pain and guilt she had felt seemed to be dissipating. She was finally righting things, and while it didn't feel good per se, it was nice to know it would all be over soon enough. Glancing back over to Velt, she wondered if she should offer to make an alliance with him, but quickly dismissed the idea.

If she was going to make an alliance, it would be with someone she thought would win. She didn't plan on dying in the bloodbath. She wanted to try and make a difference in the games, make sure that the careers didn't win this year. While maybe she wanted Velt to win, he didn't look like much of a fighter. She couldn't allow herself to become too attached to him.

Velt sighed over by the window. He had considered becoming an ally with Skye too, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her. He was too afraid she'd say no. He'd probably just end up alone in the arena because he doubted that he'd want to ask someone else later. If he couldn't even befriend his District partner, then there was no way all those strangers from different Districts would be an option.

He gently leaned his head against the window. There was a city in the distance, not the Capitol, but one from one of the other Districts. He wondered who lived there. Maybe if he won, he'd find out on the Victory Tour.

* * *

District 10:

Roland Bucks (16) and Roan Ardennes (17)

* * *

"When are we supposed to arrive in the Capitol?" Roland asked District 10's creepy escort.

Cyran Stunners shot Roland an annoyed glance. "Ten o'clock tomorrow morning," he cried agitatedly. "Feel better now?"

Roland relaxed. Yes that did make him feel better. Leaning back into the coach, Roland ran his hand through his hair. At least he knew what the schedule was now. It wasn't much, but it was something. From the minute his name had been drawn out of that bowl, he had felt as if his life had been spinning out of control.

His entire family had come to say goodbye to him all at once, and in turn he hadn't really been able to say goodbye to any of them. The entire scene had been like a mob of teary goodbyes, all being flung at him at once. He wished they had each come separately, that way he would have been able to say something personal to each of them. But no, he hadn't even been able to talk to Mathew, his twin, his other half.

"Thank you," Roland muttered back to Cyran. The escort just rolled his eyes.

"Just leave him alone," Roan muttered to her District partner. "He's creepy." Roland looked over at the girl and shrugged. Neither of them had spoken much to each other since they had gotten onto the train, though he felt like when it came to their escort, she was on his side.

In fact, Roan was on his side when it came to Cyran Stunners. The guy gave her the creeps. Why couldn't she have gotten reaped three years ago when Alexandra Hadlock had been their escort. She was a bit of a ditz, but she wasn't scary. Not that Roan was scared of the man, she just thought it was a bit unnatural to want to have your eyes surgically altered to the color of blood.

Since she had gotten on the train she hadn't even had time to feel sorry for herself. Ten minutes into the ride Cyran had showed up, and she had been watching him cautiously ever since.

"You from the town?" Roland asked, trying to be friendly.

"Yeah, my dad's the butcher," Roan responded absently, keeping her eyes hovering around Cyran, just to be sure.

Roland waited another moment to see if she would say anything else. He wanted to have a normal conversation with someone, just to make things seem less dire. When she didn't say anything else, he tried again."Are you Mr. Toro's daughter?"

"Yeah, that's my dad," she nodded.

"I think I've see you in the back when me and brother sell some of our excess to your store," Roland told her. Back at home when a cow had become fully grown and had stopped producing milk for the Capitol, the Bucks would bring it into town to give to the butcher. Usually they got a pretty good sum of money from Mr. Toro when they brought in some of their heavier animals.

"Yeah maybe," Roan said.

Roland sighed, giving up. Clearly she didn't want to have a friendly conversation with him. It was a shame really. She might have made a good friend in the arena. "What time is dinner supposed to start?" Roland asked Cyran.

The escort wheeled around to Roland, his eyes burning angrily. "Boy if you ask me one more question about the schedule...!" he began to boom.

* * *

District Eleven:

Oatis Hanes (18) and Ivy Willosen (17)

* * *

Ivy sat the train feeling numb. She knew what she had done, volunteering for Beana, was the right thing, but now that the moment had passed, the reality of her situation was setting in. She felt like she had personally signed her own death contract. Her life may not have been particularly desirable or happy, but it was something. She didn't want to die.

At least Oatis was with her. Well, maybe that was a bad thing, but it was nice having a friend on the train with her. The older boy was currently sitting beside her, wiping the tears out of his eyes. All the big guy could think about was how his family would support himself once he had died. Ivy put her hand on his shoulder, trying to be comforting, but she knew it was hopeless. She would be devastated if their situations were reversed too.

"It was big of you to volunteer for Beana," he finally said hoarsely. She just shrugged. Volunteering had been second nature for her.

"If you had a brother, and he got picked, you would have done the same in an instant," she responded, sighing.

"I guess I would have," Oatis agreed, looking at his feet. At least his sisters were safe for the moment. The people of Eleven wouldn't let them starve as long as the games were going on. It was once they were over and the people of Eleven had forgotten about him that Oatis was worried about.

"Hey Oatis," Ivy began.

"You don't have to ask," he responded, cutting her off. "It goes without saying. We're sticking together in the arena."

Ivy nodded satisfied. She knew that was how things would be, but she just wanted to make things official. That way there could be no mix up.

"You think we have a chance?" Oatis asked bitterly.

"You want me to be honest or lie?" Ivy responded unhappily.

"Lie," Oatis sighed.

"Then yeah, I think that our chances are so good that we should just goof off in training. Those careers have no chance. You saw Four, they don't even have a male volunteer this year. Why in the world are you worrying?" Ivy responded, sounding rather convincing.

Oatis snorted. "You're a terrible liar," he told her.

She relaxed into the coach. "I wish I wasn't," she muttered back.

* * *

District 12:

Eshad Fuele (13) and Cassia Greene (17)

* * *

"Hey gorgeous, you think you could go get me something to eat?" Eshad asked grinning at her.

Cassia shot him a murderous glance. The train had only left an hour ago, and she was already ready to strangle Eshad. He was just so full of himself. He'd tried to flirt with her five times already. If things kept up like this, she would surely kill him before they even stepped into the arena.

"You have legs," Cassia glared at the Eshad.

"Geez, you don't have to be so harsh about it," Eshad mumbled, jumping to his feet and going over to the corner of the room where there was an assortment of muffins and coffee cake and such. Cassia had seen the food when she had gotten onto the train, but for once in her life, she wasn't hungry. "You should be nice to me you know. I'm going to join up with the careers. I might be able to get in too if you want."

Cassia snorted. "You, with the careers?" she asked doubtfully. They wouldn't want this runt tagging along with them. No, they would be going for some of the older, stronger looking tributes like the girl from Ten, or the boy from Eight.

"Oh yeah, you know I'm the most popular kid in my grade. They'll love me," he assured her.

That actually made Cassia smile. She may not know this kid, but she knew the kind of person that would be popular in school. Eshad just didn't fit the stereotype.

"Kid, I'm going to be blunt with you. You're small, annoying, and young. They aren't going to want you. Do yourself a favor and just keep your distance from them," she said. Well, Eshad didn't like that. He glared at the older girl, his chest puffing up in indignation.

"Oh yeah? Well you just wait and see. When I win, then we'll see who's laughing," he said angrily.

Cassia rolled her eyes. If he wanted to fill his mind with stupid delusions, that was fine by her. They were both going to die anyway, maybe it was better if Eshad at least lived out his last days still thinking himself a hot-shot. After all, he'd receive his rude awakening eventually, in the arena, when a career violently murdered him.

For the moment though, he was still royally getting on her nerves. "Do me a favor and just be quiet until we get there, okay," she groaned unhappily.

"Who do you think you are?" Eshad began.

Cassia shut her eyes, imagining a better place, where she couldn't hear this little runt babbling away in her ear.

* * *

**A/N: Second Train Ride chapter is up. Next up is going to be a chapter for the Chariot Rides. **

**As for the latest poll the results were as follows:**

**Colleen Reyna with 5 votes**

**Autumn Mistveil with 4 votes**

**Totem Earhart and Terra Oasis with 3 votes**

**Eros Cunningham, ****Chateaux Masona, and Raven Textan with 2 votes**

**And then finally Kegan Capiton and Kyla Brooke with 1 vote each. **

**As I said before the poll isn't going to have any effect on the actual winner of the Games, I just kind of wanted to hear your predictions. **

**Any who, until next time. **


	17. Chariot Rides

Autumn Mistveil, 17, District 1

* * *

Her dress was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The fabric was made up of the most delicate pink tinted crystals that winded their way around her body like silk. They danced all the way to the ground, melting like warm liquid in delicate folds around her feet. A jeweled belt made up of pure white diamonds was strapped around her waist. In the front of the skirt the crystals parted, revealing just the smallest peek at her long legs. The pink gems on her dress brought out the copper of her hair, which was pulled back by a shiny clip. Autumn had always considered herself a plain girl, but in this dress, she looked nothing short of extraordinary.

"Hey gorgeous," a deep voice whispered in her ear. Autumn twirled around, half expecting to find Eros with an obnoxious grin on his face. She was rather surprised when she found Sterling instead, looking pretty handsome himself in a white suit.

"Where's my mom?" Autumn asked confused. She had been come down before the all of them, hoping to get situated while things were still calm. In fact, she was the first tribute to arrive from any district.

"Well, she had an unfortunate incident with Ritz," Sterling brushed off, referring to last year's winner. "But I wanted to come keep you company. You really do look stunning by the by."

Autumn blushed. "Yeah, and where's Eros?" she inquired. Sterling really shouldn't have come down without him. He wasn't her mentor after all.

"Staring at himself in the mirror. He's really annoying actually. 'Oh look how pretty I am' 'Sterling I'm hotter than you' 'the Capitol girls are going to love me' Who does he think he is?" Sterling sighed.

Autumn just laughed. "He's actually a lot like you. Now you know how we all feel," she teased.

"That's not the same, I'm just so lovable. But him. Have you seen his face? Ung," Sterling sighed. "I like you much better."

"Well it's your responsibility to keep him alive in the arena. They'll all be mad at you at home if you start neglecting him," she responded frowning at him.

Sterling just smiled, staring at her with a sudden intensity. "Not if I play it right," he said, his voice low. She stared at him, confused, but just as she opened her mouth to ask exactly what he meant by that, Eros paraded over to them.

"No need to stare. I already know I'm a show stopper," he declared. Autumn raised an eyebrow at him. Of course, he was incredibly handsome in his version of District One's chariot outfit. Just like her, he was wearing some kind of crystal silk, although his was tinted yellow to bring out his spray-tanned skin and blonde hair. The cloth was cut like a toga. The crystals wrapped around his shoulder in a sash similar to her belt, and revealing a large amount of his chest in it's loose fit. It fell down to his ankles, drifting back to reveal one of his muscular calves as he walked. Together, they looked like the king and queen, a pair fit to rule all of Panem.

Autumn glanced over at Sterling, who was frowning at his tribute. It made her smile.

"Hey, why'd you come down here early?" Eros asked, crossing his arms as he eyed Sterling with an arrogant pride. Something about his tone implemented that it was Sterling's duty to follow him around like a servant, and Autumn was sure that Sterling was probably furious about it.

"Favor for her mother. Couldn't let little Autumn go running around the Capitol all by herself," Sterling brushed off easily. Autumn rolled her eyes.

Over the two boy's shoulder, she spotted some more tributes walking in. The first two was just District Twelve. They were dressed in their usual coal miners attire; although, this year's stylists seemed to be going for a sexy angle. Both of their outfits had the sleeves cut off, showing off a bit of the boy's scrawny arms, and giving the girl an I'm-trying-too-hard air around her. To top things off both tributes had their skin dyed dusty black, which most certainly wasn't a good look. Nothing about them was memorable.

It was the group that came in after those two that interested Autumn. Behind the two from Twelve walked in District Two, looking regal and dangerous in their costumes. Two red flowing capes billowed behind them as they approached, and their bodies were covered in decorative gold plates that vaguely resembled armour. Both of them held two formidable looking stone hammers in their hands, the District Two crest carved into the side of the weapons.

Eros moved beside her without thinking twice, walking over towards the pair.

"As much as I would love to just stand here with you all night, it's probably best that you follow him," Sterling sighed beside her.

"Go find a mirror for yourself. It will make you feel less lonely," Autumn smiled at him as she walked over, following Eros.

* * *

Chateaux Masona, 16, District 2

* * *

Chateaux watched amused as the boy from District One glided towards them, a self-confident glint in his eye.

"Et qui es-tu belle?" he inquired, his voice low and throaty. She smiled, feeling flattered, though she had no idea what he had just said.

"You'll have to translate for me," she said.

"And who are you beautiful," he asked again, this time in English.

"Chateaux," she responded, holding out her hand. He gave a theatrical bow, kissing her outstretched hand, while keeping his light green eyes on her face.

"What a pretty name," Eros commented. "I'm Eros, by the way."

Beside her, Chateaux heard Kegan groan, but she tuned him out. She was having a good bit of fun here. Usually at home Chloe was the one all the cute guys pined over, but here, she was the star.

"Don't be fooled by it," Chateaux warned lightly, as her lips curled into a teasing smile. "I am much more than just a pretty face."

"Oh I don't doubt it," Eros grinned back, stepping in closer to her.

At this point, Kegan must have decided that he had had enough of their flirting because he interrupted them loudly. "I vehemently hope you two understand how dense your flirting is. The probability of both of you coming out is zero to sixty-four," he said irritably.

Chateaux shot him an annoyed glance. "Oh just let us have some fun Kegan," she snapped.

At that moment the District One girl appeared, a shy smile peeking out on her face. "Tell me he's not always like this," Kegan demanded of her immediately.

The girl's eyes crinkled sympathetically. "I would, but I'd be lying," she said.

"Dude, if you find my sexual prowess intimidating, feel free to just say it to my face. I understand, most guys feel that way," Eros said, finally acknowledging Kegan's existence. Kegan's mouth quickly turned into a thick scowl. Chateaux groaned inwardly. If he was going to be like this twenty four seven, she would surely end up killing him during the bloodbath.

"Have you all met District Four yet?" Autumn interrupted before Kegan responded. Chateaux shot her a grateful look, immediately deciding that she liked Autumn. Anyone who would provide a distraction from her awful District partner was great in her book.

"No we haven't," Chateaux said. A few minutes later, the four careers were knee deep in conversation, each of them giving their input on the unexpected turn the District Four reaping had taken.

* * *

Lindon Lazar, 15, District 7

* * *

Lindon walked into the back chariot room with his head held high with pride. His body was in a fitted brown suit, and his hair was slicked silver. Jutting out of the back of his costume was a silver hunk of light material. His stylist had told him that he was supposed to look like an axe, though he didn't quite see the resemblance. He looked more like some kind of brown boy with an ugly silver tumor sticking out of his back. Not that he cared much about his looks. He had accepted going into the night that he would not be winning himself any sponsors with his looks.

At least Terra was stuck in the same ridiculous get-up. Glen had left sometime during the night while the two tributes were asleep, and Lindon was more than happy to welcome the terrified girl back to the world. The utter shame of her ugly costume shone all over her face, making Lindon seem composed in comparison.

As they walked in, his eyes easily found the group of four careers standing by the District Two carriage. Already acting like life-long friends, they seemed to be chatting about something. Carefully looking over each of their faces, Lindon made two mental notes. The first was that the boy from Two was standing closer to the girl from One than his District partner. He recognized the body language easily from years of careful observation. Usually he only cared when some man was doing it to their wife, but here, everything he observed was information that might later be valuable. Clearly, the boy didn't like his District partner, not one bit. Then the other, of course, was the close proximity the boy from One was standing from the girl from Two. Interesting.

At that moment, the boy from One noticed Lindon's staring, and shot him a dangerous smile. Lindon took the opportunity to elbow Terra. "I think Glen would like that one," he said in a nonchalant voice.

Terra's hazel eyes glanced upwards, widening when she realized the career was staring at them. Immediately, she looked away, her nails scratching nervously at her arm. Lindon smirked. She really made this too easy for him.

"To the chariots then?" he said, signalling for her to take the lead. She did, however hesitantly. Every few seconds she glanced backwards at Lindon, as if checking to make sure he was not planning on sticking her with a knife while she wasn't looking. Nothing pleased Lindon more. The fear around Terra was almost palpable in the air, and it made him feel like he was still in control. While the rest of the tribute's worlds tilted off kilter, his would remain sturdy as long as he maintained this one ounce of perfect normality.

Lindon didn't waste any time hopping onto the chariot, though Terra mulled around on the floor for a few seconds. "I think it would help if you stopped looking so terrified and joined me up here. We'll look scarier if you start acting like you like me," Lindon told her. Wordlessly, she stepped onto their chariot.

The elevated view from the little raised carriage was perfect. He was just at the right angle to watch the tributes filter into the room. Though maybe he would have perfered a more secluded place to watch them, the chariot was as good as any.

District Three was the next to arrive, looking almost paradoxical in their elaborate costumes. For two rather plain, unimpressive tributes, the stylists had perhaps tried too hard to make them look intelligent. Wires hung all around the little girl and sullen boy, acting in place of fabric to cover their scrawny bodies. Layerd on top of the circuitry, all sorts of valves, tubes, and buttons hung from their limbs. Both of them had what looked like a control panel plated on their chests. Of course, Lindon had no idea exactly what they were supposed to be, but he assumed that was the point. The genius of their costume was supposed to be too complicated for the rest of the world. It might have been an effective costume too, that is if either of the tributes planned on playing the smarts card. Judging by the boy's obvious outward grief and the girl's age though, neither of them were.

Walking in just behind the two wannabe inventions was District Ten. Now they looked like a force to be reckoned with. Ten was the animal district, and usually they got stuck dressing up as cows or sheep or some other animal. This year though, they seemed to be going at another angle. Instead of dressing up as the animals, they were dressing in them. They wore leather vests that were fitted tightly to the two tribute's bodies, broad rimmed cowboy hats that had some kind of animal fur winding around the rim, luxurious wool boots, and dark animal skin pants. Both tributes looked older and strong, which automatically made their chances of winning better. It seemed that this year, instead of being the animals, District Ten would be the animal slayers.

Lindon elbowed Terra, hoping to put the girl to some use. "What's Ten's tributes names?" he asked.

She shrunk a little under his gaze. "Roland and Roan," she muttered back. Suddenly her eyes dilated, and she bit her lip. They were back to normal size though before she completely lost it.

"Glen acting up again huh?" Lindon smirked, his eyes dancing over Terra for a moment. She truly did look miserable.

About ten minutes later, District Eight showed up. The best way to explain there outfits was to think of them as patchwork quilts. They wore normal clothing- the boy in a suit and the girl in a dress- but each individual piece of them was made out of a different kind of fabric. The inside collar of his jacket was velvet, while the strap of her dress was silk; his right pant leg wool, and her corset was cotton. They looked a tad mismatched, as not all of the textures transitioned well, and their stylists had seemed to have used as much variety with the colors as they did the mediums. Still Lindon had to admit that they didn't look that horrible. Something about the boy radiated confidence. He seemed to be the type of person that could make any kind of costume work, just because he was the one wearing it. Lindon felt a twinge of jealousy burn in the back of his chest.

If only he could get that persona so effortlessly. Because even Lindon knew, there would be no blackmailing the capitol into sponsering him.

* * *

Colleen Reyna, 16, District 8

* * *

Lena looked anxiously around the tribute room, feeling small. It seemed as if everyone was in motion. Tributes made their way towards their chariots, stylists ran wild making some last minute adjustments to costumes, a few mentors were whispering in their tribute's ears. It was hard not to get caught up in the hectic atmosphere, but still she felt hopelessly out of place. She was never one for the busy life style, always preferring to be left in solitude, usual with some kind of paintbrush.

Of course, beside her Raven was in his glory. He held his head high, smiling at complete strangers, making an impression. She still couldn't believe how lucky she was that he was her District partner. With him lending her a helping hand, she might just be able to make it out of the Games alive.

"Hey Lena," Raven said quietly as he put his hands into his pockets. "Remember what Paylor said? Try and smile."

She nodded, keeping her eyes glued to her feet, and gave the ground a half hearted twitch of the lips. Raven laughed. "Not like that. Here look at me."

She listened, raising her eyes and looking at him. His features were relaxed into a friendly expression. Clearly he really wanted her to do well. Briefly, she tried smiling again.

"That's a bit better," Raven said, though he was obviously a little skeptical. "I guess just try and make some eye-contact with the crowd when we are riding." Lena sighed. All this coaching was hopeless. There was no way she would really be able to put on a performance in front of the entire nation. The only upside was that she wouldn't have to talk now. Surely her poor performance here would be nothing compared to how badly she was going to screw up the interviews.

"You want to go over to our chariot?" Lena mumbled, a tad disheartened. Raven glanced over to the chariot that was labeled with a big number Eight, frowning as his eyes fell onto the huge white horses that were strapped to the vehicle.

"It can wait," he responded, looking around. "Do you see anyone that you'd like to bring into the alliance? I think District Ten and Eleven look promising."

Lena followed his gaze to the back of the chariot line where the two tributes from Eleven were chatting. They were dressed like some kind of growing plant. The main part of the clothing was all green, with leaves sprouting out of their limbs occasionally. On top of their heads was a crown of yellow flowers, just ready to bud. Though the outfit was slightly feminine, the boy still looked powerful. Then she glanced over at District Ten, that looked equally frightening in their animal skin cowboy get up.

She shuddered, trying to think of a world where she would feel comfortable walking up to either of any of those tributes to ask them to join in an alliance. No, there was no way she'd ever be brave enough. "They're okay I guess," she mumbled shrugging. She decided that if Raven wanted to ask them to join, she wouldn't protest. They just wouldn't be her first choice.

Her eyes moved down the row of tributes, looking for somebody else that she might feel better about being around.

District Nine looked much less intimidating. They both looked kind of cute in their scarecrow costumes. The little boy especially pulled at her heartstrings as he looked around the room wide-eyed as straw stuck out of his overalls. Nothing screamed alliance about those two though. She doubted her relationship with them would ever be anything more than cordial.

When her eyes landed on District Five, who was just walking in the door, her heart suddenly leaped. "Calico?" she breathed, feeling a wave of terror shudder through her.

"Who?" Raven asked confused. Then the boy turned, so that Lena could make out the full profile of his face, and she relaxed. The boy from Five was not her best friend. He was just another stranger among a field of freaks.

Still, the resemblance was uncanny. Both the tributes from Five looked a tad ridiculous. Their shiny silver outfits gave off a soft electric blue glow under the bright white spotlights that hung from the ceiling, and their hair stood up straight, as if they really were getting electrocuted. The girl looked worse than the boy, as her blonde hair was much longer than his, and so it added at least two feet to her height.

As the two walked past Lena and Raven, she analyzed the boy more carefully, counting the number of similarities he shared with Calico- brown hair, lanky build, quirky persona. And as much as those made him look physically like her best friend, it was his actions that really took the cake. One of the walls on the far side of the room was made of glass. When the boy from Five walked past it, he paused briefly, his eyes glancing over his costume. For a second she thought he looked unhappy, but then the corner of his mouth passed into an easy smile. He was admiring himself, despite how ridiculous his outfit was.

"I want him," she blurted out, pointing at the boy.

Raven watched the boy, amused. Lena felt her heart drop. The boy didn't look all that intimidating, like Ten and Eleven. In fact, he might very well be useless. Raven probably didn't want that kind of person in the alliance.

"Alright, if you want him in," Raven said, surprising her. She smiled a wide grin, showing off her teeth. "There," he pointed at her suddenly. "That's how you do it."

She blushed slightly, but still she kept smiling. Just a few more minutes and the ceremonies would start. Maybe she would be able to try to look happy for the crowd.

* * *

Totem Earhart, 18, District 6

* * *

Totem scrunched her nose as she looked over herself. Everything on her body from her eyebrows to her legs stung. Really was it necessary for them to wax everything? There was no reason the audience would be seeing all of the places they had removed hair from- not in this ridiculous costume. She let out an involuntary groan as she caught a glimpse of her outfit again. It was like her stylist had never seen a hovercraft before. If they were going to be making her into a craft, they should have at least took the courtesy to get it right.

First off, hovercrafts didn't have wings. Honestly, she looked like a bird with the two burdensome silver planes that encased her arms. Second, hovercrafts didn't have exposed propellers. The hat on top of her head was unnecessary with its four blades that spun around when she pushed them. Finally, the control panel went on the inside of the hovercraft, and there was no such thing as a lift off button. You didn't even have to be a pilot to know that. Nobody was going to climb outside to the belly of the craft to steer. It would be impractical to say the least.

Her stylist was lucky that they sedated her early. If she had been awake when they put this thing on her, she would have bitten somebody.

Looking over at Conner, Totem pushed the propellers on his hat, making them spin around. "Stop that," he said, swatting at her hand and grabbing the blades of his hat to still them.

"We look stupid," Totem complained sourly.

He shot her an annoyed glare. "Just try and look proud. We don't want to embarrass everybody at home," he snapped.

Totem rolled her eyes. "This costume is already an embarrassment to all of District Six. I don't think there is anything I could do to make it worse," she muttered, kicking at the ground. But then an idle thought crossed her mind- one that involved horses and lift off buttons. "I lied," she changed her previous statement. "I could probably make this a _lot_ worse."

Conner's eyes lingered on her face, looking slightly worried.

"I'm not actually going to do anything," she assured him. Still, he didn't look convinced. Sighing, Totem hopped onto their chariot, taking her spot. Conner had been getting even more crotchety since the train ride. It was like he went to his room, saw a ghost, and became an old man, all within a period of three hours. At least once the games started Totem wouldn't have to deal with him any longer. She doubted he'd get very far.

"All tributes to your stations, all tributes to your stations," a voice echoed over the loud-speaker.

Conner hopped onto the chariot beside her as the remaining stragglers started moving to their places. A few rows up, the four careers broke apart, each moving to their own chariots. District Four was still missing in action, their two mentors looking a little panicked as they looked around anxiously for their two tributes. Totem smirked. That's right, she wasn't the late one this time around.

With a jolt, the chariots began to move forwards, the District One chariot disappearing through a black curtain as they began to proceed out into a shower of cheering. The audience suddenly became so loud that nobody in the back room could hear their own thoughts. District Two followed them out, making the capitol people get even louder. Still District Four had yet to arrive.

As District Three began to move through the curtain, the elevator door burst open, and two tributes sprinted through the room, leaping onto the chariot for Four, just as it pulled up in front of the opening. They were dressed as mer-people. The boy wearing a flowing green tail that dragged behind him, forming into fins at the end. He had no shirt on, and his chest was smeared with some kind of blue sparkly gel. The girl had the same tail, though it was more teal than green, and wore a sea shell bra on top. Both had elaborate blue, green, and purple makeup painted onto their faces, and their hair had been tousled to look like cool sea-breeze had run through it recently.

They were lucky they hadn't been late. That sure would have left the audience speechless, having two of their precious career tributes missing.

The chariots continued, and it was pretty clear who the audience liked. There had been a brief blip in the cheering when District Three passed out, but when Four emerged, the steady roar of applause had begun anew. They were slightly quieter for Five, though not much. Totem wondered what Five was doing to maintain the cheering like that, when her chariot rode out into the aisle. Suddenly, she didn't care about the tributes in front of her anymore.

Flowers showered down from above as people cheered for her and Conner. The capitolites were notably quieter than they were for Five, but still the applause was deafening. Totem just couldn't resist such a large audience. Looking over at Conner, she grinned. He was waving dutifully at the capitolites, a very controlled atmosphere around him. Laughing even before she moved, Totem jabbed her District partner in the stomach, right in the lift off button, then turned and pushed the identical one on her own costume. Putting out her arms, she began to swerve around like an idiot, pretending to fly. Conner glared at her, his face lighting up beet red. Totem just laughed though. Gosh this was fun.

"Lighten up," she grinned.

Seven got half the applause that Totem had gotten, though she wasn't surprised about that. Neither of them had made much of an impression on her either. Eight however, was the District that blew the rest of them away. She looked over her shoulder to see the blonde guy, playing the crowd like a king. He had both hands up and waving, as he winked and grinned. His District partner was nothing special, just looking around with a forced smile, but it didn't matter. The boy had all of the audience in the palm of his hand. He wasn't even doing anything that special. He was just the kind of guy who demanded attention, and always got it.

After Eight, the crowd slowly quieted down, as none of the outer most Districts impressed them that much. Then finally the chariots completed their procession, pulling to a stop in front of President Snow.

The man glanced down at them with hungry eyes, and suddenly Totem didn't feel she was in that much of a joking mood. No matter how much the audience cheered for them now, they would still all be dead by the end of next month. That much was clear in the eyes of their president. Totem swallowed.

That Games had just begun.

* * *

**A/N Whew, well that was a lot of writing. Updates are going to be slower now because I'm going to be pretty busy pretty much until summer starts. It's just sort of that time of the year when everything seems to be happening at once. Hope you all liked the costumes. Notice how I only wrote from the point of view of a few random tributes? I think that is going to be the plan for the rest of the opening ceremonies- a lot of randomness with the point of views. I'll try and give every one an equal amount of face time, but it might not be perfectly even. I make no promises. Any-who next up is training day 1, so get excited!**


	18. Training Day 1

Kegan Capiton, 16, District 2

* * *

Kegan stood beside Chateaux in a room full of tributes, a smirk playing across his face. For the first time since he had arrived at the Capitol, he felt in his element. It was the first day of training, and to say that he was impressed with the training room would be an understatement. Kegan gazed at the array of weaponry, feeling giddy, itching to wind his hands around the knives.

After what seemed like a millennium, the head trainer finished talking, and the tributes were released to do as they pleased. Kegan floated over towards the weapons, completely ignoring Chateaux's insistence that they go meet District Four. He grabbed a long curved knife, holding it up to so that his District partner could see it.

"The Punademort," he grinned. "First crafted in the second year of the rebellion. The belligerents made them out of melted down steel from the side of buildings." He turned to a target, throwing it swiftly like a boomerang, and watching with utmost content as it tore through the chest of a dummy. "If only we had gems like this in Two."

"I don't know. I think real gems are much more interesting," Eros's bored voice rung through the air. Kegan glanced back towards Chateaux, finding that she had been joined by both District One tributes- Eros yawning tiredly, and Autumn watching Kegan throw the knife with a silent thoughtfulness.

Kegan couldn't help but feel annoyed with his male ally. At the very least, couldn't the guy pretend to take the games seriously?

"Long night partying?" Chateaux asked amused.

Eros shot the her a seductive smirk. "Of course. Those captiol girls just couldn't keep their hands off me," he replied, winking.

Kegan smothered a groan. He had been hoping that this wouldn't continue throughout all of the Games, but it appeared as if it might.

"Nice throw," a new voice interrupted. All four tributes turned to see District Four coming to join them. The boy, Foster, was the one who had spoken.

"Oh, isn't it the little reaped boy," Eros smiled cruelly at Foster.

The boy tilted his head to the side a little, raising an eyebrow. "Little reaped boy? Is that supposed to be some kind of nick name? It's not very original. I mean really, I can think of like twenty names that would have been much better- Foster the Great, Oh Mighty Master, Your Exellency- any of those would work," Foster said, grinning.

"So I take it you think your worthy of being in the alliance then, eh little reaped boy? Because I wasn't sure," Eros challenged, his green eyes alight with excitement.

"I know I am," Foster replied easily.

"You think you can prove that?" Eros asked.

"Just name the game."

Eros grinned and turned to survey the weapon selection. After a moment's deliberation, he settled on a bulky bow, picking it up and handing it to Foster. "If you can hit that target over there using this, then we'll let you in," he declared.

Kegan frowned, not liking these terms. Really there was no reason to deny Foster from the group. They needed more people, and it was traditional for the two tributes from Four to be in the career pack. No, he didn't like Eros' game here at all. To make things worse, Eros had chosen a particularly odd bow for Foster to use. Just judging by the relative dimensions if the bow, any arrow launched at eye level from it would have a downward pull. Of course, that was just Kegan doing guess-work, but still, generally Kegan's guesses were scary accurate. Nevertheless, Foster was wearing the most absurd grin.

"I'll tell you what. Not only am I going to hit that target, but I'll do it blindfolded," he announced. "Kyla, can you go behind the target and clap when I say when?"

The girl from Four gave Foster a weary nod, eyeing all the other tributes hesitantly. Eros shot the girl a cocky grin. "Don't worry hun. You've got a spot regardless of what he does," he said, smiling. The girl looked at him, looking mildly creeped out before disappearing to go behind the target.

"Because you are most certainly in charge," Kegan mumbled under his breath. Chateaux elbowed him in the gut, and he winced. She glared at him, making sure she sent an extremely clear message- don't get in Eros's way.

"Don't you think this is a little much?" Autumn asked. Kegan raised his eyebrows, surprised. The girl from One had been silent up until then, and Kegan was not expecting her to chime in. She had come off as sort of complacent to him. Clearly he had misjudged though, at least someone had some sense around here.

"That's okay," Foster shook his head as Eros tightly tied a piece of cloth around the boy's eyes. "If bad boy here wants me to prove myself, I'll do it. Wouldn't want him thinking I was some kind of coward." Foster's smile had somehow gotten wider as he spoke, the excitement of a challenge making the boy come alive.

Taking the bow in his hands, everyone watched as Foster carefully took in its weight, pulling the string back a few times, as if testing its snap out. Eros handed him an arrow, and the boy carefully strung it in his weapon, feeling the feathers on the end to make sure it was oriented properly. "Hey One, don't you want to spin me around a few times, just to make sure I'm not cheating?" he asked. Eros narrowed his eyes, as he stepped forwards to spin Foster. Kegan found himself smirking a bit.

This kid was too confident. Obviously he was in his comfort zone with that bow. It seemed as if Eros would be eating his words soon, and Kegan couldn't wait. Once Foster was swaying a little from dizziness, Eros stepped away.

"Alright Kyla, feel free to clap anytime," Foster called.

The entire training room was silent as forty-six pairs of eyes were pinned on Foster. It appeared as if the boy had an audience. Around the group of careers, the tributes from the outlying districts watched, waiting with bated breaths as they prayed Foster would miss. Surely if this boy hit his target square, they would know how unfortunate their chances were.

_Clap_

Foster's body spun around in one swift movement. With deadly accuracy, he released the arrow. Kegan smiled, knowing that it would hit the target square before it was a quarter of the way there. Foster had shot three centimeters higher than eye-level, taking the odd weighting of the bow into account. With a loud thump. the tip of the arrow sunk into the bulls-eye, perfectly aimed.

Kegan gave the kid some well deserved applause. "Nice shot," he said, smiling as Eros gaped.

Foster lifted the blindfold from his eyes, a wide grin stretching on his lips. "Would you like me to do it again. I bet I can split that arrow upside-down _and_ blindfolded," he declared.

Eros just shook his head, recovering from his momentary shock and smiling. "I feel sorry for whoever's not on your team," he said, stretching his hand out to Foster- a peace offering. The boy took it. The alliance was solid.

* * *

Luna Moristeen, 14, District 5

* * *

Luna watched as the boy from Four sunk his arrow into the target, feeling sick. She had hoped that since the boy had been reaped, he wouldn't be as skilled. Clearly he was not only trained, but highly skilled. Feeling dejected, Luna turned away, surveying the stations for something she could do. Layton was beside her, watching the careers with an odd curiosity in his gaze.

"The boy in the blindfold must have cheated, don't you think?" Layton said, turning to Luna.

"I don't think he did," Luna shook her head sullenly. There was no way for the guy to cheat. The tribute from One had gotten the cloth for the blindfold from the shelter station and tied it around Four's head himself, so it would have been impossible to peek.

"Well I do," Layton declared, turning away from the career tributes. The boy glanced around the room before trotting off towards the fire making station. "I've always kind of wanted to learn how to burn things," he said to no one in particular.

Luna watched him walk a few feet away before hesitantly following him. Maybe she shouldn't be hanging out with someone she had no plan of making an alliance with, but the alternative- hanging around in empty stations alone- frightened her slightly. At least when she was around Layton there was a little piece of home with her.

Sitting down beside him, Luna picked up a piece of flint and began experimenting with making fire. To her bitter disappointment, it was much harder than she thought. Luckily, the trainers were there to help her. After about fifteen minutes of practicing, she managed to coax a spark out of the flint. It wasn't a full-fledged fire, but it was a start.

"How'd you do that?" Layton asked, a frustrated crease forming between his eyebrows. He had yet to have any success with his flint.

"It wasn't that hard," Luna muttered sheepishly.

"Liar, it is too hard. In fact, I've never done anything harder in my entire life," Layton challenged defensively. "And I've done all sorts of hard stuff. Once I broke into one of the power plants and stole some electricity, that's how good I am. This is way hard."

Luna raised her eyebrow, frowning at him. There was no such thing as portable electricity. She would know, being that the power plant was all her father talked about. Still, she didn't have the energy to argue with Layton. It was easier just to let him believe that she had fallen for his lie.

"Really?" a new voice said. Both of the tributes from Five turned to see the tall blonde boy from Eight joining them. "That's pretty impressive."

Layton beamed. "It is isn't it," he agreed.

"Mind if I join you two?" the boy asked.

"Sure, we're both pretty friendly, or at least I am. Luna can be kind of quiet sometimes, but I'm not," Layton started. Luna stifled a groan as she watched the newcomer cautiously. She didn't like that he was joining them. It was one thing to hang out with Layton who always said whatever he was thinking about, but it was another to buddy up with some stranger from District Eight. Even if he looked friendly, there was a keen intelligence behind the boy's eyes. He wasn't coming over here to learn to make fire. No, he had a purpose, and Luna's trust had been burned too many times for her to feel comfortable around him.

"Well I guess that's good. I'd like to think I'm a pretty friendly guy too," the boy smiled. "My name is Raven by the way."

Layton smiled, already completely taken by the boy. "This is Luna and my name's Layton, spelled L-a-y-t-o-n, not L-e-i-g-h-t-o-n like that boy from Three. We have the same name, but he doesn't look like that much fun. I tried to wave at him last night during the chariot rides, but he ignored me," Layton said.

"Well nice to meet you two," Raven nodded. The trainer who seemed more than happy to have an extra person at his station, handed Raven a piece of flint and demonstrated how to start a fire.

"It's really hard," Layton warned him. Raven nodded and tried his luck with the flint a few times. Like Luna, after about five minutes of practice, he managed to get a spark. Layton's eyes widened.

"Not bad huh?" Raven smiled.

"Yeah I guess it's pretty good," Layton admitted grudgingly. Luna could tell that her district partner was a little jealous of their success. "I'm going to go try out some of the weapons," he announced suddenly.

As Layton began to rise to his feet, Raven caught the boy's arm. "Hey wait, Layton. Listen, me and my District partner Lena, we're making a big alliance in the arena, something big enough to challenge the careers. We could use a guy with a lot of talent like you. Do you want to join?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure the careers weren't looking.

Layton's mouth opened and closed. Obviously he was flattered by the compliment. "Yeah, sure," he grinned, looking over the moon. Then he looked over at Luna, his eyes faltering a moment. "Gee, you didn't think we were going to be in an alliance did you? I mean I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything."

"We'd love to have you too, actually. I came over because I wanted to ask both of you," Raven cut in. Luna looked at them, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. She glanced at the two boys, looking from one to the other. To be honest, she didn't really trust either of them. Maybe she could have joined an alliance with just Layton. He was honest enough. This boy from Eight though, she didn't know him, couldn't trust him. Then agreeing would also mean that she'd be aligning with the other girl from Eight, who she hadn't even met. No, this wasn't an option for her.

"I don't think that I want to join an alliance," Luna muttered, looking at her feet.

"That's a shame," Layton said. Then looking at Raven he grinned. "Want to go check out the weapons with me? I've got some mad skills with bats. Is that even a weapon? I think they've got to have some kind of club or something."

Luna watched as they went, feeling Layton's absence the minute he was gone. She looked up, feeling the loneliness echo in her stomach. She missed her parents and her brothers, but mostly she missed Starr. Is this what it's like? She wondered, up there in heaven without any of your family. Surely that's how it must be.

"Don't worry Starr. I guess I'll be joining you soon," Luna whispered miserably. Then she turned wordlessly, and continued playing with the flint.

* * *

Velt Ganger, 12, District 9

* * *

Skye and Velt had split up basically the moment training had started. Both of them seemed to have some kind of unspoken understanding that they weren't going to be allies. It wasn't anything personal. They just didn't have anything in common. Velt didn't mind that too much, he figured that he wouldn't have any allies in the arena anyway.

Currently he was sitting in the edible plant station, trying to pick out which herbs were edible and which weren't. He was surprisingly good at it, well at least to an extent. Back at home his sister Brye had an odd habit of sticking weird plants in her mouth, just to try them. She had gotten sick plenty of times, but after so much experimentation, she had a good idea of what was safe to eat and what wasn't. Whenever Velt was with her, she always pointed out the different plants she had eaten before, and the memories of her stories stuck with him.

There were plenty of plants here that he had previously eaten back at home, but just didn't have a name for. Unfortunately, there was also scores of leaves and berries that he didn't recognize. He was having a lot of trouble memorizing new kinds of plants. It was just the ones that Brye had showed back at home that he was having any luck with. So that meant that as long as they were dropped off in a field full of District Nine vegetation, he would be golden.

His odds clearly didn't look good.

Looking up, Velt noticed that the careers had moved away from the weapons station and over to the obstacle course. They had been over there all morning, showing off their superior skills in front of everyone. The boy from Four must have split ten arrows before he had gotten bored and moved onto throwing knives. Velt had been too intimidated to go over there and try his own luck with the weaponry with their scary figures looming over him. Now that they had gone though, it looked like as good an opportunity as any to try to learn how to fight.

Jogging over to the station, Velt immediately went for one of the big spears that they had on a rack. Nole had told him to try throwing these, so he figured it was as good a place as any to start.

Walking over to the line with the target range, Velt took careful aim. In one big full body motion, he threw the spear just as he would a ball straight at the target. For a minute it wobbled straight at the target, but about halfway to the dummy, the spear began to rotated forwards, before clattering to the ground. Velt frowned. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as it looked.

After a few more failed attempts, he realized that he was balancing the spear wrong. Something in his throw was making the spear turn down in the air.

"Try this one. That spear looks too long for you," a trainer said, handing Velt a new spear. He took it, testing out the wait in his hand. This one felt lighter, easier to throw.

He took another throw at the target. This time, though the spear wobbled in the air, the tip hit the dummy, scrapping it's cheek.

"Wow, you look like you're pretty good at that," a high-pitched voice said beside him.

Velt turned around, finding that a small girl about his age was watching him. He recognized her from the reaping recaps as the girl from Three, though he couldn't quite remember her name. She was staring at him with big curious grey eyes.

"Er- thanks," Velt said, looking away from her face shyly.

"I don't know how to throw a spear, but I'm okay with knives. Watch," she said, bouncing to her feet. She wound her arm back, throwing a big sharp knife at the dummy. It just missed the target's face, grazing the mainquin's ear instead. Blushing, she bit her lip. "I'm usually better than that," she said as she went to retrieve the knife.

"You're better than me," Velt said, not wanting the girl to be too upset with herself. It had taken Velt a solid twenty minutes to get his spear to his the dummy. In one try she had chopped it's ear off.

"I have a friend back at home, his name is Cable. He goes out into the woods to hunt for food and stuff. He taught me how to do a lot of this stuff," the girl said.

"Oh," Velt replied, looking at the ground. He didn't know why she was telling him this. Surely every bit of personal information was just an advantage he would have on her.

"So, what about you? Did anyone show you how to throw a spear before?" she asked.

"No," Velt replied. "My brother and I just used to play catch a lot, and he said to try throwing a spear. He thought I'd be good at it."

"Well you are," the girl nodded. "Your name is Velt right? I'm Belle."Velt just nodded. He didn't know what else to say. Belle looked a little conflicted actually, like she was trying to talk herself into doing something. "Would you like to be in an alliance with me? I thought we might be good at working together, since we're both the youngest," she asked.

Velt felt himself blush. Someone wanted to be in an alliance with him? He couldn't believe his ears. "Yeah alright," he said, smiling a little. He wondered when he had gotten so good at making friends. Nobody ever really came up to him to talk back at home. While he was thinking about it though, maybe a bigger alliance might be helpful. "You know that Eshad guy from Twelve, he's about our age too."

Belle wrinkled her nose. "I thought about asking him too, but he was talking really loudly to the girl from Twelve about how the careers were going to love him. He seemed a little, um, annoying," she admitted.

"Oh, well that's alright," Velt said. Looking back over at the careers, he saw that they were returning to the weapons station. Feeling panicked, Velt looked around. "Want to go to the trap making station? I've never done that before."

Belle smiled. "Sure. Cable showed me how to make all sorts of traps at home. Maybe I can teach you some stuff," she said. Velt nodded and the two kids ran off, grinning as they went to go play with sticks.

* * *

Raven Textan, 17, District 8

* * *

Raven and Layton walked over towards the camouflage station. They had spent the last hour hitting things with clubs, and both boys were covered in sweat from all the exertion. Raven was of course more than pleased. When Lena had first said she wanted the boy from Five on their team, he had been a little worried. The kid didn't look all that exceptional; however, he needed Lena on his side, so he figured that getting Layton on board couldn't have hurt. After horsing around with the clubs though, Raven knew that Layton would be a great asset. It was a bit of a disappointment that his District partner had turned them down. The girl would have given them another needed number on their side.

"Why are we coming over here again?" Layton asked, still breathless from the club workout.

"Lena is over here. I thought you might want to meet her. I know she wants to meet you," Raven told him.

The camouflage station was an array of colors when they showed up. Lena had clearly been busy while the boys had been horsing around. The table that had previously housed several jars of neatly separate colors, now was a giant smeared easel, splattered with all sorts of greens, brows, and oranges. "Lena?" Raven called, smiling. It appeared that she too had been hiding a secret talent.

"Over here," a timid voice responded. Layton and Raven walked into the fake section of woods that had been set up for them. At first the two didn't see anything, but then, after looking around for a few minutes, they spotted her. She was laying on the ground, coated in green paint.

"Whoa," Layton cried as he spotted the girl. Lena opened her eyes, breaking up the illusion she had created. The two white circles were easy to spot in the shadows of the trees. Layton leaped over to her, offering her his hand. Hesitantly, she took it, smearing wet paint onto him as she did. Layton seemed oblivious to it though. He was peculiar in that way. "That's way cool."

"Thanks," Lena muttered back. Raven smiled. Layton was a good pick for her. He was so loud and in-your-face, it would be impossible for her to stay completely silent while he was around.

"I once tried to become an artist. My brothers told me I wasn't any good at it though. They were really just jealous because I'm so talented. But I stopped anyway because I didn't want to make them feel bad about themselves," Layton started saying.

Before Lena could respond, Raven cleared his throat getting both of their attention. "So, this is Lena, and Lena this is Layton. Before we started chatting though, I wanted to talk about who else should be in the alliance. We need more people if we're going to be able to beat the careers," he said.

Layton looked around the room. "Well, I don't like the girls from Nine or Eleven," he announced. "Volunteers are real sketchy. I bet they're all planning on how they're going to get into the career alliance right now."

Raven nodded. "We need some more fighters on our side," he agreed. "What do you think about the both tributes from Ten and the boy from Eleven?"

"I think they're both okay," Lena shrugged quietly.

Layton contemplated this for a minute. "Yeah okay, but I don't like the girl from Ten much either." he said.

"Well maybe when we talk to her you'll change your mind," Raven said, hoping that Layton would. The girl from Ten was quiet and intimidating, but she looked like the definition of a fighter. "Maybe we'll keep recruiting tomorrow. WE should try out some more stations for today."

"Okey-dokey," Layton sang, smiling. "To the obstacle course!"

Raven and Lena exchanged a quick look before following the boy. It seemed as if they had their work cut out for them.


	19. Training Day 2

Kyla Brooke, 16, District Four

* * *

Kyla sat on the table, kicking her feet as she watched Eros give Chateaux a lesson on how to use a mace. The two tributes were really just goofing off, as they had chosen two maces that were obviously oversized for them. Watching them strain to pick up the weapon was quite comical. Kyla smiled to herself as Eros slipped his arms around Chateaux's shoulders, "showing" her how to hold her mace correctly.

A few feet away from them, Foster was quizzing Kegan. At some point yesterday, Foster had discovered that the guy was some kind of genius, and had committed himself to finding a fact that the boy didn't know. He had yet to have success.

That left Kyla alone with Autumn. Neither of the girls were big talkers. Autumn seemed to prefer just watching the room with her calculating gaze, and Kyla was still hesitant to talk to much to any of her allies. Somehow her biggest fear had changed from dying herself, to having five more friends to grieve over when if she made it out alive. Naturally then she gravitated towards Autumn, hoping to avoid all conversation. Kyla sighed, allowing herself to zone out to the sound of Foster's steady questioning.

"Who won the first Hunger Games?" Foster was asking Kegan.

"Persia Randolf from One," Kegan answered, sounding bored.

"What is the population of the capitol?"

"Five hundred thousand."

"How many dolphins-"

"We should decide who we plan on taking into the alliance today," Autumn interrupted suddenly.

The boys and Kyla turned to look at her. "I thought that we decided we were going to just stick to the six of us this year?" Foster piped.

"When did we decide that?" Kegan asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.

"I don't know. I figured since nobody talked about it yesterday that you guys had already made the decision before Kyla and I showed up, like during the Chariots or something," Foster replied. Turning over to Eros and Chateaux, he called, "Hey guys come over, we need to talk strategy."

Eros and Chateaux immediately dropped their maces, and bounced over, both with curved smiles on their mouths. Autumn looked at her District parter with hard eyes. "The outer districts, who should we bring in?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eros frowned, tilting his head as he gazed around the room. "Boy from Eight, Ten, or Eleven all look good to me. I don't want to take too many people on though. We have a solid group as things are now," he answered.

Autumn shook her head. "I think the boy from Eight is up to something. Look."

Kyla turned her head, finding the tall blonde boy over by the knot tying station, laughing as the boy from Ten held up some kind of knot. Clearly the two were being friendly, too friendly for people who planned to kill each other later.

"So we ask them both to join. We said we'd like both of them right?" Chateaux said, as if reading Kyla's mind. It was true that Eight did seem a bit chummy with Ten, but who cared? If they were going to ask them both separately anyway, then it shouldn't matter if they were already friends or not.

"It's more than just the boy from Ten that he's friends with though. Yesterday he was talking with the boy from Five, then they went back over and met up with the other one from Eight, the girl. They're making a big alliance, sort of like us," Autumn explained. Eros's mouth twisted into a decided frown, clearly unhappy with this new occurrence.

"The one from Eleven though, he's still free right?" Foster asked.

"He's friends with his District partner too. If you want to take her on, we could do that," Autumn answered. Kyla looked at the girl, impressed. It appeared she hadn't just been wasting time as she silently observed the room. Autumn was a strategist, and a good one at that.

"I don't like bringing in two tributes from the same district," Kegan muttered. "Bonds from home are worse than something forged in a day over knot tying."

"The girl from Ten then," Kyla said, quietly. Her voice sounded small, almost scarred to participate in the group conversation. At least she had found the courage to speak though. Suddenly everyone was looking at her though, and she felt the need to justify herself. "She was playing with the knives yesterday, and she didn't seem that bad."

Kegan's gaze crossed the room, settling on the girl who was currently looking frustrated as she tried to set some kind of trap. "Confident, most likely secretive and stealthy, but also small in stature, untrained, disposable if necessary. She'll do," he nodded.

"You want to go talk to her gorgeous? I'll go with you if you want," Eros asked, a cruel grin stretching across his face as he gazed at the girl. Kyla resisted a creeped out shudder. Of all of her allies, Eros was the most dangerous.

"I want to go," Foster cut in, looking eager.

Jumping on the opportunity, Kyla nodded. "Then come on," she said, pulling Foster with her across the room. She would much rather have him as company than Eros. Anyway, Foster was easy to like. If anybody was going to make that girl feel welcome in the alliance, it would be him.

The two tributes from Four crossed the room towards the girl. Beside her, Foster seemed to have some extra bounce in his step, clearly excited. As they approached, Kyla examined the girl more closely. She had deep red hair, just a few shades brighter than Autumn's, that was pulled into a careful pony tail to keep it out of her eyes. Her frame looked even smaller up close than she was far away, and her face was rounded slightly, like a young child's. Really she looked quite non-threatening, that is when you weren't paying attention to her distant blue-grey eyes. Those had a sharp edge of vigilance about them. When the girl saw Kyla and Foster approaching, her entire body became suddenly still as she watched them come.

"Hiya," Foster grinned, taking a seat beside the girl.

"Hi," the girl answered cautiously, as her attention flicked between the two careers.

Kyla looked at the ground, trying to force herself to be assertive. "We were wondering if you, um, wanted to come join us, like in the arena," she said, meekly. Honestly she didn't think she sounded all that convincing.

"Me?" the girl responded, her voice devoid of emotion as she processed their offer.

"Yup," Foster answered easily. "Kyla here saw you with the knives yesterday, and we all thought you were pretty awesome. We could really use a few more talented people in our group. What do ya say?" Kyla was infinitely relieved that she had brought Foster along.

"To what end?" the girl responded. Kyla bit her lip. It was a good yet heartbreaking question. When would they decide to split up? They wouldn't be able to stay with each other forever.

"To the end of course," Foster replied, looking at her like that was a silly question. "Either we'll all be dead and won't have to make that decision, or I guess we'll all split when theres like four or five people left. I mean, that's sort of a conditional question. It depends on how things go down you know? But you'll have an equal voice if that's what you mean. Just 'cause you're from Ten won't give you a disadvantage."

The girl narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized Foster's face, looking for lies. "Alright," she said after a moment. "I'm in."

"The names Foster by the way," Kyla's district partner grinned as he extended a friendly hand to the girl. She took it, as he helped her up.

"Roan," she answered. And with that, the three walked back over to the other four careers, ready to introduce their new ally to the group.

* * *

Roland Bucks, 16, District 10

* * *

Roland frowned as he watched his District partner cross the room and enter the group of careers. Suddenly he regretted not asking her to be in an alliance with him while he had the chance. He had seen her wielding that cleaver back at home in the butcher's shop, and he didn't want to make an enemy of her. He had been too timid though. Asking her about alliances so early would have made things real before he was ready to accept his new reality. Well now things were too late, and it appeared that she'd be working with the enemy. He just hoped he wouldn't have to kill her.

"Like this?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Roland looked over at the boy sitting next to him, and smiled. "Nah, your loop's not big enough," Roland said, holding up his own piece of rope to use as an example. "You want to make it big so that you can get it around your target, then when you've got it caught, you pull, and it will shrink."

The boy nodded as he began to pull his knot apart to fix it.

At least it looked like Roland wasn't completely without friends. The boy from Eight had come over to join him about twenty minutes ago, and the two had become pretty friendly awfully quick. The guy's name was Raven, and Roland liked the way he carried himself. There was something in the way he looked at you that made Roland feel like he was just a genuine guy, and it was something he respected.

"Sorry about your District partner man," Raven said, clapping Roland on the back as he gazed over at the careers.

Roland sighed, shrugging. "I guess we weren't that close anyway," he said.

"I can't believe that anyone would bother joining their alliance," Raven went on, an ugly scowl cutting into his handsome features. "She's signed her death certificate."

"Yeah, I guess so," Roland nodded, feeling gloomy, but Raven kept going.

"Not that it matters I guess. The Capitol has signed all of ours for us anyway," he said bitterly. Roland stopped playing with his knot and abruptly looked upwards, glancing to see if the trainer had heard Raven. Luckily, it seemed as if the capitol man was oblivious to their conversation. Saying things like that, it was dangerous.

"There's nothing we can do about it," Roland said, giving the blonde boy a hard look and hoping he received the message. He could feel his heart beat quickening in his chest, his palms getting sweaty.

Raven caught the glance, and shook his head, pausing in his little speech. "Listen, whatever happens this year, if I die. I just don't want one of them to win," he said as he pointed to the careers. "They don't deserve it, not the way the grovel to the Capitol like President Snow is god or something."

"Don't talk so loud," Roland whispered, looking around a look of mild panic in his eyes. "He'll hear you."

"Who's he?" Raven asked, shooting Roland a sardonic smile. "President Snow? Because I kind of hope he hears me." Roland gaped at Raven. He'd never heard anybody be so bold about the capitol before. It scared him, but at the same time, given his situation, he almost couldn't help but agree. And despite his discomfort over talking such rebellious words aloud, there was no denying the wave of alert excitement that buzzed through him.

"What are you going to do about it though? We're already as good as dead," Roland said, looking at the ground.

"I'm not going to let a career win this year, that's for sure," Raven responded, completely prepared for the question. "I'm getting an alliance together. I've already got me, my district partner, Lena, and the boy from five, Layton. They're over there learning how to build shelters. It'd be awesome if you'd like to join us. We could use a guy who can tie a good knot."

Roland smiled, holding up the piece of rope he'd been working on, revealing a complicated shroud knot. "I guess you've come to the right place then," he said. With that, the watch he had been wearing let off two irritating beeps. Jumping to his feet, Roland dusted himself off.

"I'm going to the next station now. I made a schedule for myself so I'd hit everything," Roland said. "You wanna come?"

Raven nodded. "Sure, after you."

* * *

Cassia Greene, 17, District 12

* * *

Cassia ran her fingers around the edge of the leaf, memorizing the feeling of its odd texture under her thumb. She had thought that she knew all the plants out there after years of sustaining herself with her garden, but she was wrong. Just twenty seconds in the edible plant station and she felt like a new-be. It was ridiculous really. Seventeen years of survival, and she wasn't the least bit prepared for the Games.

Walking moodily away from the pile of leaves on the table, Cassia made her way towards the weapons station. She didn't even care if Haymitch had told her to avoid touching a machete for the time being. She just needed a small confidence boost, and working with some weaponry might give her that. It was even worth walking around the growing pack of careers to get there. She hadn't missed the moment when they welcomed the girl from Ten in their ranks.

_Eshad probably thinks his chances with them are better now,_ Cassia smiled to herself.

That kid was really ridiculous, thinking the career pack was going welcome him with open arms. She had checked some records last night while she was busy not sleeping. Apparently the youngest kid the careers had taken in was fourteen, and apparently that girl only lasted until the second day. Oh well though. As long as Cassia wasn't stuck with her district partner, she supposed it didn't matter how he chose to die.

Arriving at the weapons station, Cassia immediately crossed over to a rack full of long sword like blades. Running her fingers along each handle, Cassia paused as she reached the one she was looking for. This machete was different than the one she had at home. The blade had a reflective sheen to it and a razor sharp edge, the way only new weapons did, and the handle was made out of a neat black material that felt much softer in her hands than the rough leather of her machete back at home. A satisfied smile stretched onto her face as she tested out the blade, swishing it through around. The sound of it slicing through the air rung lightly with every motion.

"That's interesting," a voice said interrupting Cassia's peaceful silence.

"What is?" Cassia said defensively as she swung around to face the speaker.

She relaxed a little when she saw the girl from Six (Totem she thought her name was) smirking at her. "Little jumpy there huh?" Totem commented with a mischievous turn of the mouth. Cassia lowered her machete while she narrowed her eyes. What in the world did this girl want from her? "I was saying that's an interesting choice of weapon you got. I mean, it's a little bit dangerous for someone from Twelve don't you think?"

Cassia scowled. "Do tell what you're holding?" she retorted venomously.

Totem laughed as she twirled a short sickle in her hand. "I don't think the intimidating thing really works for me. I've been told that I'm much too _tame_ to look intimidating. Nope, the safe-girl thing is totally my style," she grinned. Then, as if she had said something hilarious, she chuckled to herself. Must be some kind of inside joke.

"Yeah whatever," Cassia muttered; and then, hoping to get out of the conversation before it really started, she walked away, moving to the station trainer in hopes of getting some sparring practice in. Behind her, she left the poor Totem alone, wondering where she went wrong in her attempt to form an alliance.

* * *

Skye Ager, 14, District 9

* * *

Skye carefully put her arms out as she delicately walked across the thin beam. She could feel it sagging with each step she took towards the center. Without moving her eyes away from her feet, she swung her foot around and took another step, then another. Below her, the ground looked deceptively far away. The big puffy cot that laid underneath the beam wouldn't be thick enough to completely pad her fall if she were to lose her balance.

Still, she showed no fear.

Two more steps, and she made it across the beam. Glancing backwards, Skye let out a breath that she wasn't aware she was holding. Gracefully, she made her way down from the platform. The trainer muttered a brief compliment on her performance before returning his gaze back up to the beam where the boy from Three was already falling.

Skye walked away, looking around at the other stations bored. Most of the other tributes had thrown themselves into the training, all determined to give the Games their best shot. Not Skye though. There was no point in training if she didn't plan on making it out the other end. Let the others work themselves weary over all the stations. Of course, Skye was taking her time and hitting the survival skills stations. She had decided at some point that being murdered by one of the other tributes would be a much easier way to go. The entire process of starving or freezing to death seemed tortuous.

Walking over to the trap station, Skye began to build a few different types of snares, hoping to catch a few of the basics. Unfortunately it was harder than it looked.

"Try not to loop that string around the switch like that," the trainer explained to her, as she fumbled with the sticks. Skye nodded without looking up. Every time she arrived at a new station, she couldn't help wondering if it was these very same trainers that had worked with Dale last year. She knew for a fact that the man stationed by the wrestling station had. He had told her when she had been watching one of the careers doing push ups on the pad. She had left minutes after he had brought up her sister. It was too painful hearing about her time during the last few days of her life.

As she began to work her way through each part of the snare, the boy from District Six came over and started working silently beside her. Luckily he didn't try and start a conversation. She had no desire to start building relationships with these people. It would just mean more grief during the last couple days of her life.

The boy didn't look to stable either. Every few minutes his face twisted into an ugly agonizing scowl. Clearly he was knee deep in thought. As time passed, Skye began paying more attention to the odd looks of pain that flashed on and off his face than to her own work. At one point he actually looked like he was ready to start crying. It was definitely a bit peculiar; although, Skye supposed she shouldn't judge. He probably thought he would be dying soon, him along with the rest of the people in this room.

When she thought of it that way, perhaps they all should be crying.

* * *

Annabelle Mechan, 13, District 3

* * *

Belle had to commend herself for her good judgement. She had taken a little bit of a risk yesterday when she had walked up to Velt and asked him to be her ally, and it appeared to have paid off. When she had first asked him, she hadn't known him that well. Since then though, they had been talking, and Belle decided that she really liked him. Velt had a subtle self-deprecating air about him that made him easy to be around. He was never sarcastic or mean, and he wasn't so incredibly gloomy that he became almost annoying, like Leighton. He was just Velt.

"I don't know, it looks pretty high," Velt said beside her as the two young kids looked up at the huge rock wall that was set up on one side of the training room. It was the one thing that none of the careers had touched yet. Belle thought it was because they were all too big to climb well and didn't want to look bad. Belle herself wasn't very good at climbing. She was too scared of falling to really do well. Velt however, had told her that he was pretty good at it, and she wanted to see.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Belle said, not wanting to push him too much.

"Well, maybe I'll try," Velt muttered as he gripped a piece of the uneven rock. Belle watched as the boy began to scale upwards. Like a spider he climbed with an easy grace. Unlike Belle, he was not afraid to take some risks. Twice he jumped to get to the next foothold, leaving the wall completely until his nimble fingers slipped around his target. With one last shove, he pushed himself onto a ledge at the top. Belle could just make out his head peering back down at her from way up there.

"Can you get down now?" Belle asked worriedly. Without answering, Velt began to descend with only the slightest bit more care than when he had gone up.

Jumping the last couple feet, Velt landed lightly on the padded ground. "I did it," he beamed proudly.

Belle nodded, smiling. It was strange how different Velt was from Cable. If her best friend had managed to climb all the way up there, he would have returned with a nonchalant seriousness, pretending that it was no big deal. Velt, however, didn't try to pretend that he was better or cooler than he was.

"I wish I could do that too," Belle said wistfully.

Immediately Velt shook his head. "But you can do all sorts of other things that are better than climbing, like work with snares and make find food and stuff. I can't do any of that stuff," he said quickly, not wanting her to feel bad about her own strengths. Belle smiled, again feeling that wave of gratitude over choosing him as her ally.

"Come on," she said, pulling him by the hand. "Let's go to the camouflage station. Neither of us are good at that."

* * *

Roan Ardennes, 17, District 10

* * *

Roan breathed heavy as she sliced at the trainer's shin. He was showing her up, and she knew it. Spinning around, Roan sent a hard blow to his elbow, the sharp edge of her cleaver digging into the man's Captiol armor. He backed off then, his eyes flickering towards their audience. She knew the guy could keep going, but apparently he was quitting early, allowing her to beat him. She greatly appreciated it.

"Not bad Ten," Eros's cold voice said.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath. They had asked her to show off her skills with a knife, and of course she didn't really have a choice. Unfortunately though, she only ever really attacked dead things with cleavers before. While her skill with the big knife was obvious, it did not hide her inept fighting skills.

"See Eros, Kyla told you she was decent with knives," Foster beamed proudly, his arm slinging around his District partner's shoulder. The blonde girl from Four blushed under the attention.

"I've seen better," Chateaux said bored.

Roan swallowed as the girl gave her a cold stare. She had taken a risk joining the career pack. She already knew going in that she was probably the low man on the totem pole. Still, she saw promise in this opportunity. Many of the victors from the outer districts only won because they had tagged along with the careers. Roan had just never considered it an option as she automatically assumed that they wouldn't want to team up with her. When Foster and Kyla had approached her though, she knew she had no choice but to take the opportunity.

The trick would be knowing when it was time to bolt because if she stayed with this alliance until the bitter end, there would be no way she'd see her father again.

"Well you can't expect her to be omnipotent," Kegan muttered annoyed.

"Yes well at least she's smart," Eros said, his voice too loud. "Unlike that District partner of her's, she keeps good company."

Roan shifted uncomfortably, a bubble of anger in her stomach. Sure she wasn't exactly friends with Roland, but he was a good guy. The career pack didn't need to be picking on him. Glancing over her shoulder, her stomach sank as she saw Roland and the boy from Eight staring at them. Roland of course, didn't do anything in retaliation, and took the insult quietly.

"Was that necessary?" Autumn sighed.

"Course it was. Haven't you gotten a whiff of that factory boy from Eight. You can practically smell the poverty radiating from him," Eros responded.

The boy from Eight gave Roland a weary glance, and stood up to approach the careers. "Eros right?" he said, sounding tired as his blue eyes shined in the dim lighting of the training room. "I think me and my friend over there would greatly appreciate it if you kept your thoughts to yourself. You shouldn't be trying so hard to make enemies before the Games start."

Eros stared at the boy, a fire in his eyes. "Is that a threat Eight?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. Roan held her breath as the two tributes stared at each other. The tension in the air was practically palpable.

"The name is Raven. And yes, maybe it is," the boy replied, his jaw setting.

Eros's mouth curved into a very scary smile. Roan felt a shiver of fear shoot down her spine just looking at him. "Oh, I can't wait for the Games," he said, his eyes scanning Raven like a piece a meat.

Then with his composure and dignity completely intact, Raven turned his back and walked away, not even giving Eros the reward of a response.

* * *

**A/N: And there goes day two of training. This chapter was a little career heavy, but I think it was ****necessary. Sneak peak at the next chapter, I think you'll all be hearing a little bit more from District Eleven, District 6, District 7 and District 3. Until next time.**


	20. Training Day 3

Conner Trayston, 14, District Six

* * *

Conner lifted his drowsy head and looked around. For a minute he didn't recognize where he was as the modern furniture of the Capitol was so different than what he was used to. Then it all came flooding back to him though- the reaping, the chariot rides, training, Lassie. He swung his feet over the side of the bed. He'd seen her twice now since the train ride. Both times she hadn't even looked at him, though he had stared at her wide eyed. If only he could catch her when there wasn't so many people around, then they could talk, or rather he could talk. She was an avox now, so there would be no words coming from her.

Slipping on the training uniform that had been laid out for him, Conner walked downstairs for breakfast. Totem had already gotten up, and she was lounging back with her feet up on the table as she munched on some dry cereal. Conner didn't even bother hiding his disgust.

"Ritz Flake?" Totem offered holding her bowl out to him. "Look they're all shaped like tributes from last year's games. See look, here's our very own Ari." Conner stared as she held up a bite sized grain that had been molded into the shape of Ari Zeppelin, last year's District Six male tribute. Conner made an agonizing face, and pushed the bowl of cereal away from himself, thoroughly creeped out.

"No thanks," he mumbled unhappily. His gaze turned to the buffet of food that had been laid out for them. Everything from cinnamon buns to bananas was at their finger tips, and yet he couldn't force himself to eat a single bite of it.

"I think I'm just going to head down for training early. I'm not that hungry," Conner muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Suit yourself," Totem called after him as he exited the room.

Thankfully the elevator was empty when he entered it because he just wanted to be alone. As it descended though, it stopped on the fourth floor, opening for an avox to enter, but not just any avox. It was Lassie.

She stood there stunned as she stared at Conner, and for a moment, it looked like she might let the elevator pass and get in it when it came around next time. A gruff voice yelled something at her though, and she stepped in nervously. As they descended, the tension of the silence grew.

Finally Conner couldn't take it anymore. "Hi," he muttered. She glanced at him nervously. It was like she was afraid of him, this girl who had never been afraid of anything. "Did they do this because of me?" Conner asked. "Because they didn't want you corrupting the mayor's son?"

The two kids stared at each other for a minute, desperation in the boy's eyes, and hesitation in the girl's. She shook her head, a sad smile creeping onto her lips. Conner was silent for another moment. "Then you did something else? Some prank that you didn't tell me about, and they are punishing you for that?" he asked. Lassie shrugged, not giving him a definite answer, though he suspected that he was probably right.

"You know, I'm probably going to die next week," he muttered quietly. Lassie was silent, but her presence was comforting nonetheless. He had missed her so much that it was almost painful seeing her face again. "Lassie," he whispered emptily. "I'm really scared."

Tentatively, her hand reached out, touching his shoulder. Conner needed more than that though. Turning suddenly, he pulled her into a desperate hug, clinging to the last bit of his life that was left. For a minute she went rigid, but as he lingered, she softened. Then her moved around his shoulders, and she patted his back, comfortingly. When they separated, he felt tears in his eyes, but Lassie was smiling. Silently, she moved her hand into a fist, and beat it against her chest. He stared at her, seeing his friend for the first time since he had arrived.

He had seen her do that gesture before. It meant man up.

"I'll try to," he muttered. Then again, with his voice more firm. "I'll try."

* * *

Leighton Blitz, 15, District 3

* * *

The third day of training was off to a very slow start. Leighton had forced himself out of bed early, just to get in a little extra knowledge, but it appeared that it wasn't going to do him much good. The careers hadn't been here when he had first arrived, so he had decided to walk up to the weapons station and give some of them a try. What had he learned from this experience? That he shouldn't ever pick up a sword- they're sharp.

Feeling deflated, Leighton tried his hand at a few other pointed objects before giving up entirely. If he hadn't known before, he was now certain that there was no chance he would win the Games. The amount of victors who won without knowing how to fight was definitely in the minority.

Kicking at the ground, Leighton moved over to the edible plant station. About five minutes in, he almost consumed a Tumble Dum. The trainer practically leaped across the table, slapping the weed out of his hand before he digested it. "You'll kill yourself eating that," the man cried exasperated.

"Oh," Leighton muttered unhappily.

"Hi Leighton," a voice rang in his ear. The boy spun around to see his District partner, Belle, walking up to the station, the boy from Nine trailing behind her. Leighton had noticed that his District partner had attached herself to the kid during lunch the pervious day. She had gone to go sit with Nine instead of joining him like she had the previous day. He didn't blame her of course. This other boy was probably infinitely more interesting than he was. Just in general he never really had friends. It was like he had a repelling force-feild around him that screamed 'see this kid, he's a loser, don't be friends with him.'

"Er, hi," Leighton responded, scooting over so that there was room for the two kids at the table.

"That one's the one that my sisters always chewing," the boy from Nine said, pointing at some droopy brown root.

"It doesn't look that good," Belle muttered wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah, but it tastes better than it looks," he responded. Leighton narrowed his eyes confused. He could have sworn that the trainer had said that was poisonous a minute ago. As the two kids popped the root into their mouths though, the trainer just watched. Obviously it must be perfectly edible.

Great, Leighton griped to himself. Even the youngest kid here is better at surviving than me.

Feeling sorry for himself, he walked over to the other end of the station, where he could sulk in peace. Counting on his fingers, he tried to think of something he was good at. That's what his mentor Beetee had told him. Find something that he's good at. Thinking over all of the different skills though, he couldn't even find one. At home the only thing he excelled in was hiding, and that was only because he knew the city better than most. Here he'd be launched into an arena that wasn't familiar to him, so he wouldn't even have that on his side.

With a heavy sigh, Leighton grabbed a random plant and shoved it quickly into his mouth, vaguely hoping that it was poisonous. Immediately an overwhelmingly bitter juice filled his mouth. He turned and began to spit, trying desperately to get rid of the awful taste.

"Oh, that's the Wexler Vice," the trainer said approaching him. "It's perfectly safe to eat... if you can manage to get it down."

Leighton cursed inwardly as he wiped his tongue off on his sleeve. This was just his luck.

* * *

Ivy Willosen, 17, District 11

* * *

Ivy's brow was furrowed in utter concentration as she spun the stick in her hand. She could see the smoke begin to rise from the log she was drilling in. Without taking her eyes off her work, she demanded, "Oatis bring me the straw." Not a moment later, some dry pieces of grass were placed around the edges of her drilling stick. With a subtle flaming nose, the fire took. Ivy gently brought some twigs over, placing them around the straw. Once those had caught, she took some sticks, then some logs. Before long, she had a respectable fire blazing away.

"Looks like we won't be freezing to death," Oatis smiled at her. Ivy beamed. Fifteen minutes earlier, Oatis had been struggling to even get a spark out of the flint, while she had just managed to start the fire with basically nothing.

"I think we've actually got a good chance of going pretty far," Ivy nodded.

Oatis was silent for a moment before sighing. "I hope so," he mumbled, looking at his feet. Ivy frowned at her district partner. He had been looking dejected ever since they had begun training, and she wasn't quite sure why. Oatis had excelled in all the right areas. Sure he needed a little help when it came to survival skills and stuff, but as far as fighting went, he was brilliant. He had pinned two trainers at the same time the day before on the wrestling matt. The careers had been frowning at them from a distance. Having that natural fighting ability would get you far in the games, but somehow, Oatis had taken it badly. It was like he was doubting their chances even more now that he learned he was a strong wrestler.

"Come on, let's go to the shelter station," Ivy said, pulling Oatis along with her. The two tributes from Eleven each took a seat in front of the trainer, who promptly began lecturing them on the best ways to form a shelter. After he finished his long winded explanation, he gave them each a cloth tarp, and told them to try to make a hut.

Of course, they soon found that it wasn't as simple as it looked. Oatis wasn't the best at tying knots, and there were a few corners in their tall structure that Ivy couldn't reach. At least the two had fun with it though, as Ivy teased her friend about his unnatural vertical length.

"Could be worse. I could be short like you," Oatis grinned as he fumbled with a bit of string at one of the corners.

Ivy rolled her eyes.

"I don't know, she doesn't look that short to me," a new voice chimed in. The two tributes from Eleven spun around to see two boys approaching them- the one from Five (Layton?) and the one from Eight (Raven?). Five was the one who had spoken.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at them, immediately on her guard. She and Oatis had noticed District Eight walking around the past two days and causing trouble. On day one Oatis and her had actually talked about joining their alliance. Oatis had overheard Raven talking to the two tributes from Five, and knew they were looking for a more allies. Yesterday though, had changed Ivy's mind. After that stand off between Eros and Raven, she wanted nothing to do with the large outer district alliance he was forming. There was no reason to go about making themselves a target when they might do perfectly fine on their own.

While Ivy regarded the newcomers with a cold distance, Oatis transitioned easily into a conversation with them. "You're still growing," Oatis pointed out to the boy from Five. "Give it a few years and you'll be taller than Ivy too."

Layton nodded thoughtfully as he looked at Oatis. "I don't know if I'll be as tall as you though. I mean you look like you had Growing-itis as a kid. Have you ever heard of that? It's like a disease that makes you grow really fast. I've even heard it can be deadly sometimes. You're lucky to have survived," he said.

Ivy stared at the kid like he was crazy. There was no such thing as Growing-itis. What in the world was he talking about? Oatis's eyes crinkled at the edges though, and he looked at Layton the way he used to look at Carmel when she was telling him a rather tall lie. Ivy's stomach twisted slightly. She didn't like how friendly her district partner was being.

"Sounds serious," Oatis said, nodding.

"Yeah it is," Layton agreed.

"Why are you all here?" Ivy demanded bluntly. Raven's eyebrows went up, surprised at her directness. "And don't tell me its to build a shelter," Ivy added.

"We thought you two might want to join our alliance," Raven answered. Turning, he pointed over to the obstacle course where the girl from Eight and the boy from Ten were hard at work. "It's just the four of us right now. If you two joined our numbers would be closer to the careers. And, I couldn't help but notice how good you were at building a fire earlier. It was pretty impressive if you ask me."

Ivy frowned at his flattery. Sure, it might have worked two days ago, but still, all she could think of was that sadistic look in Eros's eyes the day before. Hanging around with Raven now was like putting a target on your back. It was simply a risk that Ivy couldn't afford to take.

"As nice as that sounds, we're going to have to say no. Thanks anyway though," Ivy answered.

Raven frowned as his blue eyes flickered between Ivy and Oatis. "Both of you are saying no?" he inquired evenly. "I mean, you are speaking on his behalf? I think Oatis can probably speak for himself don't you?"

Ivy fumed, glaring at Raven dangerously.

"Ivy," Oatis whispered in her ear. "They could be good allies."

"Did you see him talking to the careers yesterday?" Ivy sneered. "It's not safe to be around him right now."

Oatis turned sullenly towards Raven. "I'm not doing anything without Ivy," he said with a sound clarity in his voice.

Raven nodded regretfully. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "But the offer stands, for both of you. If we meet in the arena. I'd rather it not be as enemies."

With that he grabbed Layton by the elbow, and the two walked away.

* * *

Eshad Fuele, 13, District 12

* * *

Eshad puffed out his chest as he looked nervously at the career tributes over by the obstacle course. He had been trying to work up the courage to approach them for the past two days, but had yet to force himself to do it. It wasn't that he was scared they would reject him or anything, he just wanted to make sure that he was cool about it. He had been waiting for that perfect moment to approach them, but it appeared that it wasn't coming any time soon.

Secretly, he'd also been slightly wishing that they'd approach him, like they did with the girl from Ten. It hadn't happened yet though, and he was running out of time.

They just haven't seen how awesome you are, Eshad told himself.

With those encouraging words in his mind, he strutted forwards, approaching the careers. When he made it up to them, he found that he was being promptly ignored. All of their attention was focused on the boy from Four who was slowly making his way across the monkey bars.

"I... hate... climbing," the boy cried as he landed on the opposite end of the course. Grinning he turned to face his allies.

"That's not technically climbing," the boy from Two muttered.

Eshad, feeling peeved that they hadn't immediately turned their attention to him, cleared his throat. The careers fell silent, all turning to look at him. Then, the big guy from One grinned. "Oh this is going to be good," the boy said.

"What do _you_ want," the girl from Two asked.

Eshad held his head high. "Really, it's not what I want, it's what you want," he said, feeling quite clever.

"And what do we want?" the girl from Ten asked boldly.

"Me," Eshad said, as if it was completely obvious.

The seven stared at him for a moment, then the boy from One went ahead and laughed. "Really," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"Yeah really," Eshad went on. "And you're in luck because I want you. So, you don't have to even tell me that I'm in. Although, I'm a little hurt that you've waited so long to ask me to join your alliance."

"Hey Foster?" the boy from One snorted. "Is it just me or is this kid hilarious."

"It's not nice to make fun of dim people," Foster retorted, though he was grinning. "Hey kid, maybe you should just go run back to your District partner. She looked... nice."

Eshad stared at them, not quite hearing them right. "Haha, that's funny guys. I get it. You just want to make me show off. That's okay though. Move out of the way babe, I'm next."

The blonde girl from Four who was sitting on the steps to the top of the course turned beet red as Foster and the boy from One practically keeled over with laughter. Pushing her out of the way, Eshad made his way to the top of the stairs. He cracked his knuckles as he boldly stepped out onto the rope course. Of course, he had been so quick to start, he didn't have good footing when he stepped onto the first unsteady foothold. Tripping forwards, Eshad's fall was stopped by series of rough ropes that were running horizontal to the planks. Still he didn't give up though. Rubbing his side painfully, he stood up to his feet and stumbled all the way to the last obstacle- the monkey bars.

He didn't even make it half way across the bars before he tumbled down to the matt below. Upon landing though, he jumped to his feet and scrambled to the finish line, skipping the rest of the bars.

"Ta daaa," he cried throwing his arms up proudly. "Now you can't say no. See I'm awesome."

Now the two boys from One and Four were actually on the floor, cracking up together. The other four careers were just looking at Eshad with varied expressions of disgust and pity. "That was disgraceful," the boy from Two muttered.

"Come on, let's go throw some more knives," the girl from One mumbled as she led the career pack away from the obstacle course.

Eshad stood at the end of the course, watching them go, completely astonished by their reactions to him.

* * *

Terra Oasis, 15, District 7

* * *

Terra nervously fumbled with a snare, glancing up every now and then to see who was watching her. Of course, no one was. None of the other tributes knew about her condition. To them, she was just some doomed girl. It was Lindon and Lindon alone that knew what lay inside of her head, but thankfully he wasn't with her at the moment.

Terra pulled a final string taught in her snare, and grabbed an apple to test it out. Gently rolling the apple forwards, the snare triggered, plunging a razor blade right into the defenseless fruit's core. In the arena, the snare would work perfectly as a possible food source, if she could get a razor blade that is. Terra sighed miserably and leaned back onto her hands. She had found that traps were the one thing she was good at in the training room. All of the other weapons felt wrong in her hands, and the survival skills required so much memorization that it made her head hurt.

Of course, it probably didn't matter what she was good at or not. Lindon had been taunting her earlier, but the sad truth was that he was probably right. The odds of her retaining control over her body for any period of time was minimal. She could just picture it now- herself, sitting in the Capitol as victor, watching the play back of the Games, and not recognizing anything that happened. Terra shuddered and returned to her snare.

She couldn't think that way. If she had to think about what life might be like after she won, well, then maybe she would start thinking that winning wasn't all it's cracked up to be. That train of thought would surely get her killed.

"Boo," a voice whispered in her ear.

Terra yelped as she stumbled away from the sound. Hyperventilating slightly, Terra tried to calm herself down as Lindon laughed at her. Slowly she could feel herself fading as Glen suddenly began fighting for control. Rocking back and forth, Terra, bit her lip, drawing blood. No, this couldn't be happening now, not when all the other tributes could see.

Lindon meanwhile, was looking at her with sudden concern. "Look at me Terra," he demanded. Terra forced herself to do so, if only to show that she still had control of herself. "Now breath. He doesn't have to be you." Terra didn't understand why he was helping her. He usually found taunting Glen amusing, but now he was trying to suppress her other half. It didn't make sense.

Then Glen's grip over her mind increased so much that she didn't even have the attention span to wonder over Lindon's sudden change.

The girl's pupils suddenly dilated, and her expression went blank. By now the trainer of the station was kneeling beside her, wondering what in the world was wrong as she went eerily still. In an instant, everything changed. Terra's arm shot out with deadly speed, and her fingers found their place on Lindon's throat. Her district partner screeched as she pushed forwards, cutting off his air supply more firmly.

"Three days," Terra screeched. "She couldn't even keep me down for three days."

The trainers rushed around Terra, pulling her away from Lindon. The boy collapsed on the floor as he rubbed his neck resentfully.

"Just wait until the arena Lizar," Terra continued to screech as she was dragged out of the room. "You're mine then. I swear I'll have your head on a stick if it's the last thing I-"

The door was slammed shut, shutting out Terra's, or rather Glen's, calling and leaving behind an shocked silence.

* * *

Oatis Hanes, 18, District 11

* * *

Just two minutes after the girl from Seven was escorted out of the room, the head trainer ran in, calling for everyone's attention.

"In light of recent events, you're all released for the rest of the day," the woman called. "Please everyone return to your suits. You will all be given some extra time to talk with your mentors to make up for the couple hours of lost training."

Ivy stepped closer to Oatis as the two moved towards the door. "What was that all about?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know. I had completely forgot about the two from Seven. They didn't look that impressive to me," Oatis admitted. Well, he regretted overlooking them now, that girl just went completely crazy. The two tributes from Seven had made such a scene that even the careers had dropped what they were doing to watch the disruption.

Looking over his shoulder at the spot of the crime, Oatis wondered what had set the girl off. Whatever that boy had done, it couldn't have been pleasant. As the tributes neared the elevator, Oatis reached into his pocket and realized that he was missing the piece of fabric Carmel had given him. With a jump he turned around. "I forgot something," he said as Ivy shot him a look.

Jogging back into the training room, Oatis found that not everyone had cleared out yet. Raven and Colleen were still hanging around the shelter station, apparently analyzing something. Knowing that he must have left his token over there, Oatis jogged over to them. When Raven saw him, he held up the faded piece of blue fabric.

"Is this yours?" he asked.

Oatis nodded, taking it from Raven quickly. His heart beat slowed down a bit once the torn piece of blanket was back in his pocket, safely tucked away. "Thanks," he nodded as he turned around.

"Hey wait," Raven called before Oatis had taken two steps. The burly tribute from Eleven turned, glancing back at Raven curiously. "You didn't say no just because of your District partner did you? Because its your life. You shouldn't waste it just because of loyalties from home."

Oatis shook his head sadly. "If I want to go home myself, I can't abandon her," he said. In Eleven orphans had their own network. Ivy and Oatis were both part of it. That meant that they had each other's back. It was like their parent's were gone so they had inherited a bucketful of new siblings in their stead. It wasn't just Ivy who was expecting him to be her teammate, it was also Oatis's family, the orphanage, his friends. Dropping her would be going against everything he stood for. Anyway, was it really worth living if he wouldn't be able to face Carmel, Vaddy, Carrid, and Lex when he returned? He knew the answer was no.

"I understand that," Raven nodded, shooting a glance at his own District partner. The girl was currently standing back silently as she let the boys talk. Clearly she had no desire to speak up herself.

"If it makes you feel any better. I won't kill you in the arena," Oatis smiled jokingly.

Raven returned the grin. "I don't know about your District partner though. I think we better still watch out."

"Good luck then," Oatis said, and with that he turned around and headed back over to the elevator.

* * *

**A/N: So there's the end of Training. As for the next chapter, I'm telling you right now that I'm not going to do private training sessions. I feel like it would be the most boring thing to write (and read), and I'm just not doing it. That being said, I think I'll do a chapter on revealing everyone's training scores, maybe told from two or three characters POV's. So until then, ****too-da-loo**


	21. Training Scores

District 3

Belle Mechan (13) and Leighton Blitz (15)

* * *

The two tributes sat on the coach in their suit, surrounded by their entourage as the television flashed on. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Temple's faces popped onto the screen. They were sitting in some booth, talking about each tributes chances. Behind them was a board full of betting numbers that must have meant something to the capitol people, but that were complete gibberish to both the tributes from District Three.

"Oh they won't be starting for another fifteen minutes," Carlton sighed as he watched Belle and Leighton sweat over the training score announcement. "Stop squirming about it."

On the coach beside Leighton, a young man shot the escort a cold look. "Maybe they'll stop fussing if you do," the man grumbled, running his hand through his mop of tangled tweed colored hair.

Leighton shot his mentor a despairing look. "My score is going to suck," he moaned, shoving his face into his knees.

"What could you have possibly done that was so bad," the man asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. Leighton didn't respond. When he had first heard Sparky Nuetro, District Three's golden boy, was going to be his mentor, he had been ecstatic. Finally it had seemed that he was getting some luck. Of course, his opinion of the victor had quickly changed when he had met the man. Sparky was the most negative sarcastic guy Leighton had ever met. It was no wonder he had refused to tell his mentor what he did in the private session.

"Maybe it's not that bad if you get a bad score. They won't look at you as a target," Belle chimed in. Oh, the optimist, if only she knew. Belle of course just wanted Leighton to feel better. He had been griping ever since their training sessions had ended, though she had no idea why. The poor girl just couldn't stand seeing her District partner looking so down.

As for herself, she was feeling pretty good about her private session. She had shown them how good she was with a knife, and though she wasn't as good as the careers who had been throwing all sorts of sharp objects all over the place during training, she thought she had held her ground.

"Maybe," Leighton muttered.

"Actually the odds of someone with a high score winning are relatively close to those of someone with a low score. Wiress and I did the statistics a few years back. I think it's like a fifty-six percent chance of someone with a score over six winning and a forty four percent chance of someone with a score under six of winning. Really this score is just to help out the gamblers," Beetee, Belle's mentor, said.

Well that did make Leighton feel a tad better, though it didn't stop him from sulking.

At that moment District One's seal appeared on the screen, and the girl's face flashed onto it. The room went silent.

"Autumn Mistveil," a robotic voice called. Belle held her breath as it paused in suspense. "Nine."

Leighton groaned as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Eros Cunningham... Ten."

"Chateaux Masona... Ten."

"Kegan Capiton... Nine."

"Annabelle Mechan... Six."

A round of applause sounded as Belle sighed in relief. A six, that wasn't horrible. In fact, it was probably some kind of record for somebody as young as her. Thinking it over, she was actually quite proud of that score. Now all that she needed to make this day even better was for Velt to do well also.

"Leighton Blitz... One."

Leighton yelped as he buried his face into his pillow. Nobody bothered to give him any applause, or even utter words of encouragements. He had told them that he had blown it, and boy had he been right.

"What in the world did you do to get a score _that_ bad?" Sparky asked. It seemed for once the sarcasm had been shocked right out of him.

"I hid," Leighton mumbled.

"You what?" Sparky asked, positively dumbfounded.

"You said to just show them what I was good at, and all I've ever been good at is hiding. So I went in there, told them that my talent was hiding, and that they had to turn around and send somebody to go find me. Then when they were turned around I left the room because the best way to hide is to go where they'd never look," Leighton blurted out, an embarrassed blush.

Sparky suddenly laughed. "Wait. So you basically just told them to turn around, then left the room," he said, grinning. "Well that's no wonder you did so bad. I'd have given you a Zero."

"Gee thanks Sparky," Leighton mumbled. Suddenly he didn't feel like hanging around anymore, and so he stood up and ran to his room.

* * *

District Four

Kyla Brooke (16) and Foster Finner (14)

* * *

"I think we've got some big shoes to fill," Foster commented as Kegan's score flashed onto the screen. He smiled to himself, feeling proud of his allies. Chateaux's and Eros's scores specifically were quite impressive. It was good that they had done so well to. It meant even mores sponsors for the historically well off District, and of course, Foster was sure they would be sharing any of their particularly tasty sponsor gifts. It would only be right, given that they were friends and all.

"Looks like it," Kyla agreed quietly. While Foster had been relatively happy with the well-of scores of their career counterparts, Kyla felt her heart drop when she saw them. She knew going into this day that her score was going to be below normal career expectations. She had never excelled in training the way other kids had. Her heart had just never been in it. Her one hope had been that the other tributes would score a tad lower than normal also, therefore making her failure not look as bad. With the tributes from One and Two doing so well though, she could only pray the Gamemakers were feeling generous when they had ranked her.

"Leighton Blitz...One."

Foster suddenly let out a loud howl of laughter as he elbowed his Kyla. "Oh my gosh, Kyla, you see that? A One. Good grief, what did he do?" Foster cried.

Kyla shrugged, feeling sorry for the poor kid from District Three. She knew she'd be feeling horribly awful if she were in his place. Still, she wanted to be on Foster's good side. "It's not that surprising, I guess," she tried half-heartedly, trying to sound cruel, like a normal career.

"I guess not," Foster grinned. "Do you even remember him from normal training? I don't." Kyla shook her head in agreement as Foster had another belated fit of laughter, effectively missing the girl from Three. Not that it mattered though, that poor little girl probably didn't do much better than her District partner.

"Kyla Brooke... Seven."

Kyla exhaled a shocked breath. A seven? That wasn't so bad. Foster would probably score better, with his skills with his bow. Still though, she wasn't eons below her peers, and she still had a chance to beat Roan's score. She had secretly been worrying over the past day or two that the girl from Ten had become a more valued member of the pack than herself. If she beat Roan's score though, her placement would be solidified.

"Good job," Foster smiled, clapping her on the back as the rest of the District Four entourage clapped. Kyla's heart squeezed with gratitude as she saw genuine sincerity in Foster's face. He may have a questionably harsh sense of humor, but below that, he was a good guy.

The chorus of congratulations from Kyla's mentor, stylists, and the escort grew silent as Foster's face flashed on the screen.

"Eight," Caesar called.

Foster grinned and brought his arms up, flexing his biceps as if he were some kind of body builder. "Not bad, not bad," he joked in his good-humored way. His Aunt and mentor laughed as she put her hands on her nephew's shoulders.

"I think that Paylor is looking pretty sorry back at home right now," she praised. Foster's eyes lit up.

The numbers went on, getting into the outer Districts, but Foster had checked out. He didn't care that much about how the rest of the tributes did. They weren't his allies, and these numbers didn't really matter that much, at least not as far as the actual games were concerned. Maybe he would turn his attention back when Roan's name came up.

Kyla paid attention though, personally routing for each and every individual to get a Twelve, however unlikely. She watched attentively as everyone else chatted amiably to Foster about the career's scores.

"Luna Morristeen...3"

"Layton Cross...4"

"Totem Earhart... 7"

Kyla caught Foster's Aunt glancing upwards, scribbling something on her notepad when Totem's number was called. She knew that the girl had just gone onto the target list. Kyla's score had been the lowest of all the careers, so now she had set an unsaid bar. Everyone who scored the same as her or above was a threat. For a moment, she couldn't help but feel guilty that this stranger's death was probably now written in stone just because Kyla hadn't done very well.

"Conner Trayston... 4"

"Terra Oasis... 5"

"Lindon Lizar... 7"

"Colleen Reyna... 4"

"Raven Textan... 11"

_Eleven_

Everyone went silent and stared at the television, wondering who made this awful mistake. Because this boy from Eight, he had just done the impossible. His feat would not be missed, not by anybody. Oh no, Raven Textan had just made a statement:

He was now unforgettable.

* * *

District 10:

Roland Bucks (16) and Roan Ardennes (17)

* * *

"Skye Ager... 4"

"Velt Ganger...5"

The tributes in District Ten's suit weren't paying attention. Both were still in awe over what had just happened in District Eight. In fact, Roland had yet to return to his seat. When he had seen Raven's name appear on the screen with such a high score, he had leaped to his feet, giving a loud whoop. Pride flowed through him, and he couldn't help but feel a little bit giddy. _That_ guy, the guy who got an eleven, wanted him, Roland Bucks, as an ally. He could barely believe it. Since when did he become so lucky.

"That's my man," Roland boomed loudly. Just moments earlier he had been rubbing his sweaty hands together anxiously as he awaited his own score. Raven doing so well though was such good news that it had effectively distracted the tribute, turning him from a nervous wreck into an explosive cheering fan.

Roan just shook her head quietly as she leaned back into her seat. Roland was foolish to be so ecstatic. He didn't understand what that number meant for his ally, himself, or his alliance. The guy was just too simple-minded to even think about how his enemy would view that score. Roan knew though, probably because she was his enemy. When her allies saw that score, Eros specifically, Raven and anyone who associated with him would become number one on the career hit list.

Roan bit her lip as she considered telling Roland this. He was going to find out eventually after all. She decided against it though. The two District partners hadn't spoken since Roan had agreed to join the careers. She knew Roland felt a bit cross with her about the decision. It wasn't his life though.

"Roan Ardennes... 7"

"Whoop di doo, look who scored," Cyran Stunners hissed with an odd look of pleasure.

Beaming, her chest swelled with self-satisfaction. That score was perfect. She had managed to tie with Kyla, meaning that she was an equal to her allies. At the same time though, the big threats- meaning Eros- had outscored her. Her seven would in no way hurt that alpha-male pride. Hopefully, that ideal number would buy her another day or two before she had to desert.

"Good job," her mentor and stylist cooed in unison as a general applause erupted. Even Roland cast her a silent hidden encouraging smile, though he didn't say anything out loud. He had sunk too far back into his own worries to have the attain the calm he needed to speak to her. Cyran was the only person who didn't look overjoyed was Cyran, but she had long since decided that his creepy expressions were unreadable. For all she knew, plastic features were overflowing with happiness.

"Roland Bucks... 6."

Another round of applause.

Roland spun around, soaking in his mentor's look of approval. "I did good," he said, just letting the words roll off his tongue.

"Real good," his mentor agreed.

A grin stretched across Roland's face, making his deep blue eyes glow. His shoulder's looked suddenly relaxed as his posture seemed to have an entire wire of stressed removed from its frame. Roan hadn't noticed her District partner's nerves before, but an entire layer of worry had vanished. In fact, Roland had indeed been extremely terrified that he'd done bad in his personal session.

It wasn't that he had done anything wrong. No, he had performed his lasso routine to perfection. After staying up for hours the night before, meticulously planning each and every movement, it was practically impossible for him to have failed. Still, the entire process had worked him up to a peak of nerves. The night before hand he hadn't gotten even a wink of sleep, and he'd been rubbing his hands together nervously all day. That Six was like a breath of fresh air.

"Ivy Willosen... 6," the numbers went on.

As much as Roland wanted to continue celebrating his own score, he quieted himself for the remaining tributes. It wasn't in his nature to disrespect them by not dutifully watching their scores. Roan on the other hand, had been keeping a careful tally on her competition. She wanted to keep watching so that she didn't miss anything significant.

"Oatis Hanes... 8."

Roan frowned. She had already known that Oatis was a threat, now that seemed to be true even more-so.

"Cassia Greene... 5."

"Eshad Fuele... 2."

Well that made Roan snort. She couldn't help but remember the way thaw kid from Twelve had demanded entrance into the career pack. To think that all he could muster up was a two, it was actually kind of comical. That poor kid, he didn't stand a chance in the arena. Roan already felt a little guilty for what would no doubt be her hand in Eshad's death. She didn't have much of a choice though. This was her biggest chance to live, and she had every intention of making the most of it.

* * *

**A/N So there are the scores, hopefully they sound realistic. This chapter was a bit shorter, but I've been short on writing time so I'm just happy that I finished it in a resonable time period. Next chapter will be interviews. The Games are almost here, get excited (or sad, whatever floats your boat)**


	22. Interviews Part 1

Ajax Turner, Head Gamemaker

* * *

The Head Gamemaker leaned back in his seat as his eyes scanned the massive crowd. Capitolites from all over had fought tooth and nail to buy tickets to the most popular television event all year- the interviews. They all wanted to get their chance to see each tribute with their own eyes, to hear each one speak before they met their bloody doom.

Some of them though, had come for more than just a chance to listen to a group of doomed children. Plenty of the most prominent citizens in the Capitol had come praying that they'd have a chance to meet this year's Head Gamemaker for themselves. Needless to say, young Ajax was just soaking up the attention. He dropped subtle red-herrings about the arena, accepted a few bribes, and shined getting brighter under the spotlight of such high end socialization. Truly, it was like he was built to be a celebrity.

Unfortunately, the time had come and Ajax had to retreat back into the Gamemaker balcony. Up with his colleges, the air was much different. There was less partying, and more of a silent thoughtful air about them. Though everyone had a drink in their hand, and even a few seemed to be sharing some jokes, there wasn't a soul that didn't have a notepad in their hands as they all prepared to take notes on the interviews.

"Penny, fetch me my planner will you?" Ajax asked his assistant as he moved to sit down. Glancing down at the stage, he found Caesar Flickerman was chatting with some of the audience members in the front row. His hair was a wintery white this year, as was his suit. It made him look almost like some sort of pixie actually.

"Here you go sir," Penny said, handing him a thick binder.

This planner had become Ajax's lifeline over the past few months. With all the hysteria over constructing the arena, he needed somewhere to organize all of the ideas. Now the binder was home to several blueprints, mutt profiles, as well as a detailed bio on each and every tribute. Every now and then he'd open it up and there would be a post-it-note written in perfect script that reaked of stale roses on one of the pages. His most recent one was on the girl from One.

_Investigate Ms. Mistveil's relationship with young Mr. Sterling Archer._

Of course, Ajax had no idea what the message meant, or why it was important. Unfortunately, it was not his place to ask. There was no planet where Ajax would be so bold, not with the President at least.

Suddenly the audience started buzzing with excitement, and Ajax looked up, finding that a large countdown had begun. When the counter hit zero, the crowd erupted in applause as Caesar began his introduction.

"And onto our first tribute, the daughter of our very own Sparkle Mistveil, I bring to you the lovely Ms. Autumn," he cried, as the copper haired girl glided onto the stage.

She wore a shorter version of the silky jeweled dress that her stylist had made for her at the chariot ride, this one stopped just above her knees, showing off her long legs. When she walked out onto the stage, Caesar leaned forward and kissed her hand, making the audience get even louder.

"Hello Caesar," Autumn said with a tentative smile but sly smile.

"Hello to you too Ms. Mistveil, and might I say, you look just lovely in your dress today," Caesar complimented her.

Autumn didn't miss a beat as she smoothed down her dress in such a way, it managed to show just a little bit more of her thigh. "Thank you. I wasn't sure about my dress at first you know. It was a bit longer before. I thought the stylists were being a bit too... modest," Autumn replied.

Ajax frowned as Caesar shared some light, but obviously provocative banter with the girl. This wasn't the Autumn that he had taken notes on in training. This one was too forwards and superficial. Not in a million years would Ajax have guessed the girl would have taken the sexy angle for the interviews. Although, he shouldn't have been too surprised. He had a researcher delve into Autumn's mother's games. Apparently Sparkle had won the very same way that Autumn was approaching the Games- by coming off as sexy and desirable and hiding a reserved calculated intellect behind the glitz and glamour. Yes, Autumn had most definitely deserved the nine he had given her.

"Yes, I was very happy with the number," Autumn told Caesar as the topic of the score came up. "I know that I wowed the game makers in there, and I would expect nothing left."

"Of course not," Caesar agreed.

Ajax leaned over to Penny. "Wire in to Caesar to inquire about her relationship status. Tell him that there's a rumor about her and Sterling Archer."

Not a second later, Caesar asked the question. "So tell me," he leaned in. "A girl like you can't possibly still be single. I know that everyone is dying to hear, is there a lucky young man back at home?"

Autumn smiled seductively out at the crowd. "Oh no, I'm single," she answered easily. The crowd let out a collective cheer as a few flowers were thrown onto the stage.

"Really?" Caesar said. "Well, tell me if I'm being too bold, but I heard a little rumor running around the studio. I hear that there might be a little romance going on between you and Sterling Archer. Is that true?"

That one question made the girl's composure falter unforgivably. Her face lit up in a bright red blush as she glanced down at the mentor session. "No of course not," she said immediately. The image of Sterling's face flashed onto the monitors. The mentor, of course, was completely at ease as he winked at the cameras and flashed his winning smile. Ajax scribbled a note down onto his pad. Hopefully that would satisfy President Snow's curiosity.

The buzzer sounded, and Autumn gracefully exited the stage, the blush still present in her cheeks.

Eros waltzed up next, shaking Caesar's hand vigorously. His eyes scanned the crowd like a venomous snake, ready to eat up its prey. Even Ajax felt a chill go down his spine as the boy's gaze brushed over his face.

"So Eros, I'm sure you're already aware, but for the past two years, District One has had the privilege of having two victors in a row in both Sterling Archer and Ritz Papel," Caesar began. "Of course, you plan in following in their footsteps right, but do you think there is any pressure with those two formidable victors to live up to?"

Eros grinned a cruel smile. "Of course not," he answered. "I already know I'm better than both of them."

"That sounds pretty confident of you," Caesar noted.

"I didn't volunteer because I thought I would lose," Eros smirked. "Just wait. I'm going to make the rest of the tributes look like flies when I crush them in the arena. Count on being impressed." Several of the Capitolites whistled at the boy's response, no doubt he'd have his hefty share of sponsors come game time.

"If you win then, what do you think you'll do with the prize?" Caesar asked, leaning forwards.

"I've got a good friend back at home, his name is Flame. We're going to live like kings in Victors Village after I bring home the crown," Eros answered with a quick nod.

"Sounds like you'll be running quite the bachelor pad then," Caesar responded. Eros grinned his affirmative answer as the crowd cheered. Several women were already crying declarations of love for Eros as the interview went on.

Caesar spent the remaining minute chatting with Eros about all the grand luxuries he could add into his new house before the buzzer eventually rang. Ajax took a few more notes putting an idle check by Eros's name. President Snow would have no problem with this one winning.

"Up next we having another Victor's daughter. You all know her mother, but now we are going to get to know her. Ladies and gentleman, Chateaux Masona!"

Chateaux walked onto the stage in her glittery high heels looking quite girly. Again, Ajax felt a hint of shock. He had expected her to come on and pull of the sexy act. After all, she'd been flirting with the boy from One since she had arrived. Yet she didn't have that vixen look in her eyes. Instead, Chateaux looked almost serious for once.

"Well hello gorgeous, aren't you looking just dazzling," Caesar said, holding his hand out so that Chateaux could twirl. She did, and the audience ooed and awed as her dress glittered in the spotlight.

"Thank you," Chateaux responded, a small smile on her set jaw.

"So, I guess we'll get right down to business then. You're mother was quite the victor, did she have any influence over you're decision to volunteer?" Caesar asked.

Chateaux paused for a moment deliberating the question. Ajax knew from some of the cameras that were scattered around the tribute building that Chateaux hated her mother. Just the previous day she had a blowout with the woman during the coaching session. Something about her mother disapproving of her training score.

"I volunteered for me," Chateaux finally said. "I'm not my mother, and I don't want to be her. So no, she didn't have any say in my decision. If I didn't want to come here, I wouldn't have."

"Hmmm, is that so. Well you must have a pretty strong will then," Caesar replied.

Chateaux nodded, "I'd like to think that I do. Weak people don't win the Games, and I am going to win."

"You seem pretty determined there. If you don't mind giving us a little dirt, do you have a plan?" Caesar asked. The entire audience took a collective breath as the anxiously waited for a clue on the upcoming Games. Chateaux smiled a little as she watched them.

"Well, I'm strong and skilled and I have my fair share of allies. I don't have much of a plan beyond that, but I'll do whatever it takes to come out of that arena alive," Chateaux said.

"If I was allowed to bet, I might have to put my money on you. I don't know though, what do you think folks?" Caesar asked, turning to the crowd. They roared of course, promises of future betting pouring from their mouths.

By the time they had quieted down the buzzer had sounded. With a quick farewell, Chateaux made her way off the stage, and Kegan made his way on. He made a bee line for the interview seats, pausing only briefly to shake Caesar's hand before sitting down.

"Well we don't know very much about you, tell us about your home in District Two, do you miss it much?" Caesar said, getting into the interview.

Kegan sat back into his chair, his face set into a serious watchfulness. Well, this was exactly what Ajax expected from him at least. "I do," Kegan answered, his eyes flickering to the cameras. "I have a younger sister back at home that's probably furious with me right now for volunteering, and I miss my library."

"You're library?" Caesar inquired.

"In the center of my house there's a library room, and I spend most of my time in there. I've found that if you don't spend you're time striving to enlighten yourself, then you are effectively becoming more doltish by the minute. I haven't had read a book for a couple days now, and it's been bugging me to no end. You see there are few things I hate more than morons," Kegan answered. Even Ajax laughed at that one, though he knew it was not meant as a joke. The boy from Two scanned the room, wondering why that statement was so funny.

"You're an intellectual then," Caesar grinned.

"I suppose so," Kegan shrugged indifferently.

"Do you think that will play to your advantage in the games?" Caesar went on.

"You've watched the games before, Caesar. It's sad how many lost opportunities there have been because a tributes been too ignorant or too stupid to act. This year will be no different. So yes, I think it will play very will to my advantage," Kegan asserted.

"Your allies must consider themselves lucky that they have such an intelligent teammate," Caesar complimented.

For a moment Kegan looked mildly annoyed before he answered with a slight shrug. With that, the buzzer sounded, and he abruptly stood, nodding a curt goodbye before exiting the stage.

Next up came the little girl from Three, Annabelle Mechan. The crowd was positively charmed when she skipped out onto the stage, looking even younger than she did during the chariot rides.

"Hullo," she smiled at Caesar.

"Well hello to you too, Annabelle. That's such a pretty name by the way, Claudius Temple and I were just having a chat about it yesterday," Caesar said.

"Thanks, but I like people to call me Belle," the little girl said, her voice sounding like bells over the loudspeaker.

"Oh, well I'll be sure to get that right from now on. I'll be sure to let Claudius know so that he doesn't get it wrong when he's announcing the Games, " Caesar corrected himself. "Speaking of the Games though, you did pretty well in training. Most tributes your age are lucky to score a flour, but you scored a six, pretty impressive. Maybe it's a sign."

"Well, I hope it is. I've worked really hard since I got here so that I'll do really well in the arena," Belle nodded. "I learned all sorts of survival skills and even tried out a few of the weapons."

"Oh yeah, what was your favorite?" Caesar asked.

"Well, I actually think that bow and arrows are really cool, but I'm no good with them. Back at home my friend Cable used to say that if he ever had to go into the Games, that would use them," Belle answered.

Looking around at the audience with a scandalous look on his face, Caesar leaned closer to Belle. "Your friend Cable? He wouldn't happen to be an extra special someone would he?"

Belle blushed. "No," she laughed off the question. "Of course not, we're just friends. Anyway he's fifteen."

"Oh, an older man I see," Caesar teased. The audience clapped loudly, as the little girl from Three stole their hearts. As far as betting went, it looked that Belle might actually be pretty well off in the arena.

The buzzer sounded, and Belle actually got up and hugged Caesar, making Capitolites everywhere put their hands over their hearts at the adorable charm that was radiating from the stage.

After she exited, her District partner Leighton lumbered his way over to his seat. He didn't even bother shaking Caesar's hand when the host offered it to him. Instead he just dropped backwards, sagging into his chair.

"Well how are you doing Leighton?" Caesar asked as he sat back into his chair, taking the denied hand shake with grace.

Leighton looked up at the host weary eyed. "Not so great," he answered moodily. "You wouldn't be doing so good either if you knew you were going to die tomorrow either."

"Awwww, you don't know that," Caesar said, getting the audience involved with his eyes. After a few seconds of the host had managed to corral all of the Capitolites into shouting words of encouragement, though it did seem considerably hard for him to get them to their feet for the doomed boy.

"Yeah I do," Leighton sighed shaking his head.

Caesar though, wouldn't accept such pessimism. "Maybe you'll get lucky. If you play the bloodbath right, you could slide through the Games unnoticed. You never know, stranger things have happened."

"I don't get lucky, not ever," was Leighton's short response.

"Well everyone get's lucky sometimes. Why just the other day I found the most gorgeous little rhinestone on the ground. I brought it to a friend to see how much it was worth, and I got twenty silver pieces for it. You can never know when a bit of luck will come your way," Caesar shook his head.

It was quite clear though that there would be no convincing the tribute from Three. No matter how hard Caesar tried, Leighton just wasn't being responsive. By the time the buzzer went off, not only was the entire audience dying with boredom, but Caesar himself was running out of things to say. Everyone was relieved when Kyla Brooke walked onto the stage.

"So when I heard your name on the tribute list this year, I couldn't help but feel that it was familiar," Caesar began.

Kyla nodded. "My brothers were in the Games before. Liam died in the final three in the 59th Games, and Poseidon died in the final ten in the 61st Games."

"Oh that must have been hard for your family," Caesar said as he reached his arm over to her, grabbing her hand. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss."

The girl closed her eyes, apparently collecting herself as the look of pain gently withdrew from her face. "It was hard on us," she said carefully. "That's why I have to win for them."

"That's very brave of you," Caesar commended as the audience all nodded in agreement. "I'm sure you'll make everyone back at home very proud."

Kyla smiled, "That's what I hope for. I know I will though. I've been working my entire life so that I could win the Games. There's no way that is going to go to waste." Caesar smiled, withdrawing back from the girl as if to admire her.

"Well you're on the right track. That seven you got is not to be ignored, and the audience just adores you," Caesar said. The Capitolites all cheered in agreement.

"Thank you." Kyla chatted for a few more minutes about a few random things, before the buzzer sounded. Now Foster was never one for subtleties, so when he entered the stage, with his wide grin, all he had to do with shoot the audience one over-exagerated wave and he had them hooked.

"Foster, Foster, Foster," Caesar said shaking his hand vigorously. "Where should I start with you. Well, I suppose the beginning would do. How about that reaping? You sure put on quite a performance for us all. What was going through your mind when you skipped up to that stage?"

Foster gave an big huff, crossing his arms in apparent annoyance. On the screen a replay of his ridiculous reaping antics aired to all of the world. "You want to know the truth Caesar?" he asked. The host nodded enthusiastic. "Well, I wasn't supposed to be here this year. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was going to end up volunteering eventually, but not until I was like eighteen. That way I'd be all big and strong for the Games. Er, bigger and stronger. I'm already pretty built as is."

"Who was supposed to volunteer than? Was it that Paylor boy that you called out to right before the reaping cut off," Caesar inquired.

With a decisive nod, Foster continued. "Yup that's not the worst part of it though. You see Paylor, that jerk, he's my brother." A collective gasp echoed throughout the room.

"Oh that's down right awful of him," Caesar frowned.

"I know right?" Foster agreed, throwing up his hands in the air. "Maybe the skipping might have been a little excessive, and he may not have wanted to see the rest of what I had planned for him when he did volunteer, but really, was chickening out necessary?"

The audience laughed.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm sure he'll feel horrible if you come back home a Victor. You can show him all of your winnings, and that will put him in his place," Caesar said encouragingly.

"I'm sure my mother already gave it to him hard back at home," Foster grinned.

"Oh she must be," Caesar agreed.

"Once I win, I'll have to get him back good. Here that Paylor, I'm going to come home and prank your cowardly ass, so you better watch your back," Foster turned, speaking directly at the camera. Mid sentence, the buzzer went off, though the audience didn't want to let the District Four tribute go. They did though, and soon Luna Morristeen was out on the stage, sitting nervously in her chair.

"Hi Caesar," she squirmed under the cameras.

"Well hello to you too, and how are you feeling today Luna," Caesar smiled sweetly.

"I'm kind of nervous actually," Luna admitted.

"About this silly interview?" Caesar inquired. "I didn't think that I was that scary."

The audience laughed as the host looked down at himself, a comical look of surprise on his face. Luna, however, just frowned. "Not just about the interview," she told Caesar. "About tomorrow too."

"Ah the Games, I guess we can allow you to be nervous about that. I think we'd all be pretty impressed if you weren't," Caesar told Luna, placing his hand on her arm comfortingly.

"I just don't want to hurt anyone you see," Luna said timidly looking at the ground. A few adoring awww's echoed around the room. In general, Capitolites didn't usually enjoy it when tributes brought up the bloody truth of the Games during the interviews, but the girl managed to play it off as a certain childhood innocence that many found endearing. Whether this strategy would actually manage to pay off in sponsors was yet to be seen.

"Awww, well what about your family? You'll fight for them right?" Caesar pushed. Ajax smirked. That comment wasn't going to go over well in the Districts.

"Yeah, during goodbye's, I promised my big brother Ignacio that I'd try really hard in the Games, for him," Luna muttered.

At that point, they were cut off by the buzzer, and Luna made her way off. Next came Layton, looking absolutely ridiculous in a plaid suit and big lopsided striped bow tie. His eyes widened as he took in the huge audience. His wonder was so exaggerated that he stared outwards during his entire walk the interview sofas. He didn't even seem to notice that Caesar was with him until the host cleared his throat and said hello.

"Gee there's a lot of people here," Layton gaped. Everyone laughed as Caesar eased the boy into his seat.

"Yes well you're quite the celebrity now," Caesar smiled.

Layton's big eyes glanced over at the host as if just noticing the man. "Well nobody told me that," he said frowning. Ajax snorted subtly to himself as the crowd howled in laughter.

"I'm telling you right now," Caesar said defensively.

Layton tilted his head as if contemplating this for a minute. "Yeah, I guess you did," he admitted. Then after pausing for a moment, he commented. "Your hair looks like white cotton candy."

Caesar laughed, his hand lifting his hand to his hair-do. "Do you like it? I thought it'd be a nice change from last year's black," he said as he fluffed his snowy locks.

"Yeah, its okay, but you have to be careful, I saw some woman with a beak earlier, she might try and eat it," Layton warned Caesar in a matter-o-fact tone.

"Well that does sound pretty frightening," Caesar nodded, looking around in mock paranoia.

"My brother Marty, he got attacked by a bird woman once, it was really traumatizing for him because he is so uptight, and you know, running isn't his thing. I saved him though," Layton said. Ajax frowned wondering whether the boy lied constantly on purpose, or whether he actually believed the words he said. It was impossible to tell from just watching him.

"How'd you do that?" Caesar asked.

"Well I beat her away with my bat of course, it's the only full proof way of fighting off bird women. I'll have to make one for you, that way your hair will be safe," Layton nodded. The audience cheered loudly, all of them absolutely charmed. It was ridiculous really. What they all found endearing about the kid's tall tales, Ajax would never know.

"A bat wouldn't happen to be the weapon you plan on using in the arena would it?" Caesar asked cleverly, trying to get some insight into the game for the audience.

"Maybe," Layton said shrugging. "My brother Bender told me to use one, but I might not. Bender can be a little bossy, and he needs someone like me to tell him no sometimes."

With a delighted laugh, Caesar clapped Layton on the back as the buzzer rang. "Well then, I can't wait to see what you decide. Next up we have the devilishly charming Totem Earhart, joining us all the way from District Six," the host cried, transitioning into the next tribute.

Totem walked out in a frilly dress and a ton of make-up. Ajax narrowed his eyes at the girl for a minute. Something was different about her, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Then, one of the other Gamemakers gasped. "Her eyebrows!" his coworker cried astonished. Looking up at the screen for a better view, Ajax realized that indeed, one of the girl's eyebrows was missing, a light red irritation in the skin the only sign that it was ever there.

Caesar wasn't phased by it of course, the man never was easily shocked. "You look stunning," he said easily.

"Liar," Totem accused immediately. "I am missing an eyebrow. Some lunatic stylist ripped it off with a piece of hot tape. I know that the style here is a bit different than back at home, but I'd like to think that you'd look pretty hideous too if you were suddenly missing one of your eyebrows.'

Caesar put up his hands looking around at the audience. "You have me there, I do like my eyebrows, but I think you pull of the look nicely. Don't you think so folks?" The crowd of course cheered reassurance that Totem really was gorgeous in her fluffy white sun dress. Totem, however, either didn't seem to care as she rolled her eyes at them.

"I guess it's better than my chariot outfit. I'd rather have one eyebrow than be a confused aviation art project," she nodded, crossing her arms.

"What was wrong with your chariot outfit?" Caesar inquired.

Totem looked absolutely flabbergasted at the question. "What wasn't wrong with it?" she cried. "I mean, what was I even? I'm a pilot back at home, and I've never seen any sort of winged vehicle with circular propellers on top. I sort of was wondering if you capitol people have ever even seen a real hovercraft. You have haven't you?" The crowd nodded enthusiastically. "Well then you should know that it flies with huge fans that create a pressure difference in the air above the craft and under it. It doesn't have wings, and it doesn't have propellers. So since I obviously wasn't a hovercraft, I dubbed my costume confused aviation art project."

The audience laughed, seeing her point.

"And hey I guess things could be worse. I'm sure I'll terrify all the other tributes to death. Instead of having Johnny unibrow from Two like they did last year, I can be Totem the one semi-browed bandit," she added. Now that had the audience reeling. Ajax himself couldn't help but crack up at that one.

Caesar laughed along with everyone else as he slapped his knee. "Now I love that, folks, who doesn't love a girl with a good sense of humor. I'm sure we all know people who would have taken your little wardrobe malfunction very badly. It's good to see that you have a good head on your shoulders," he said, selling her to the crowd.

"If you say so," Totem shrugged.

With that the buzzer rang, and Totem exited the stage gracefully. Conner came out next, probably acutely aware that he had a pretty big act to follow. Like a proper mayor, he waved to the crowd as he slowly made his way over to Caesar. His manner actually wasn't that different from that of President Snow's when the man was making propaganda about his kind only difference was that this boy was clearly trying very very hard to please his crowd. President Snow on the other hand, would never have to make an effort to force a crowd to cheer for him.

"Hello Conner," Caesar said, shaking the boy's hand firmly.

"Hello Caesar," Conner replied fluidly as he smoothed his fancy coat down before sitting.

"So then, as I'm sure you know, every year we allow the fans to vote on some questions for all of you wonderful tributes. I guess I'll start out with one of those now. A young man named Maxim noticed that you have been very proper in all of your appearances before us. Do tell where you get it from," Caesar said.

Conner nodded as he processed the question. "Well, my father is the mayor of District Six. He's taught me everything I know," the boy explained. "I was preparing to take over for him one day when I grew up."

"And of course, I hope you get the chance to do that. If you win do you think you'll still strive to become the mayor? I'm sure winning the Games will definitely help your chances of being chosen," Caesar followed up.

"Definitely," Conner nodded. "It's always been my dream to follow in my dad's footsteps, and I would love to have all of you watch me do it." The crowd cheered, loving the acknowledgement.

"But how do you think that your polite society training will translate into the Games? You don't think that would be a disadvantage for you do you?" Caesar went on.

Conner shook his head as the crowd quieted in anticipation of his answer. "I wouldn't call it a disadvantage, just another way of seeing things. Sure I'm not used to 'getting down and dirt', but that doesn't mean I can't. I'm sure I'll do just fine," Conner answered. Ajax rolled his eyes. If that wasn't the definition of avoiding the question, than his last name wasn't Turner.

The District Six boy talked for another minute or two before the buzzer finally rang. He was just trying so hard to give the answer that he thought the crowd wanted to hear that he was actually quite boring. It wasn't a terrible interview by all means, but it wad definitely forgettable. Not everyone could have a loud personality like Totem did though.

With the half of the interviews behind him, Caesar turned to the crowd and gave them a cherry grin. "So are you all ready to meet our next tribute?" he asked. A thunderous applause answered him. "Well I am too, but sadly Ms. Terra Oasis will just have to wait. She will be coming back down to join us though, after this short break."

The lights flickered down, and Caesar relaxed into his chair as a makeup team rushed out to perform a few touch ups. Meanwhile the rest of Panem waited for the broadcast to continue as an add for the latest and greatest Gerty's Gumdrops aired.

* * *

**A/N Ung. I hate interviews. They are the most monotonous thing to write, and I can't skip over them like I did with the private training sessions as they're kind of important. Unfortunately, I've decided to split them up into two chapters too. The original plan was to knock them all out in one blow, but after half of them took up roughly 5,500 words, I figured that a 10,000 word chapter might be a little much. So in pops the emergency commercial break! And if you're wondering how in the word I am getting these chapters out so fast, I happen to be on break right now, so I've had some extra time on my hands. Hopefully I'll get the rest of the interviews out of the way within the next three days or so. Until next time.**


	23. Interviews Part 2

Ajax Turner, Head Gamemaker

* * *

The cameras flickered back, and Ajax swiveled around in his chair, turning his attention away from a conversation he'd been having with a co-worker back over to Caesar. The host was standing up a huge grin on his face as his intro music played again.

"Well folks we're back, and I'm proud to introduce you to our next tribute, Terra Oasis!" he called out in his booming voice.

Terra walked forwards her eyes tentatively scanning the crows. Ajax leaned backwards, watching her carefully. He had discussed the potential risk the girl posed during the interviews with his colleagues the other day, and they had determined that it was relatively minimal. They just had to keep her away from her District partner, as it seemed the boy had a gift for triggering the girl's alter ego to come out. Luckily, it seemed that their precautions had paid off because the nervous girl that Caesar was greeting seemed to be completely sane, for the moment.

"So Terra, tell me, how have you been enjoying your time here?" Caesar asked, starting the interview.

The girl looked nervously around, like a deer in the headlights. "Well, um, I... the foods been really good here," she stuttered out, turning beet red the minute the words left her mouth. The audience laughed amiably with Caesar.

"I see you're a bit nervous," the host said. "Don't worry though, I promise I don't bite." Terra smiled thankfully at the man as she awaited the next question, not entirely sure what to say next. "So the food then. What's been your favorite?"

"There was this pine soup that we had after dinner last night. It tasted like home," Terra answered, quietly.

"Oh I love that dish. The chef here just does a wonderful job with it. My personal favorite though is the roasted turkey that's usually served just before it. Have you tried that?" Caesar asked.

"No," Terra responded, looking at her hands almost guiltily.

"Well, I guess I'll have to put in a personal request that they give you some turkey for dinner tonight, that way you can have some before you get into the arena," Caesar nodded. "And speaking of which, how do you think you'll do in the Games? That five you scored wasn't too bad."

"I... I don't know how I'll do," Terra responded fidgeting a little in her seat. There was an awkward silence as she paused in her speech for a minute, collecting her thoughts apparently. "Um, I'm just afraid that it won't be me out there."

"I'm sure you'll be able to find a good strategy that will fit your personality," Caesar brushed off with a smile. "If there's one thing we've learned over the years, is that there are always new ways to approach the Games. It's why they're so exciting." The audience let out a loud cheer, although it was more for Caesar than it was for the girl.

"That's not what I meant," Terra muttered almost inaudibly. For a minute it looked like she was going to elaborate, but then the buzzer sounded, cutting her off. Terra left the stage leaving the audience with a mild confused feeling in the air.

Lindon walked onto the stage with a look of wonder that wasn't too unlike the one Layton had worn earlier on in the broadcast. When he reached the chairs, he shook Caesar's hand vigorously, a huge grin on his face.

"Hi sir, I've been waiting all week to be able to get to finally meet you in person," Lindon quickly said as he looked at Caesar with adoring eyes.

"Why thank you, but I really should be saying that about you. This is your time in the spot light you know, especially after you scored that seven. I'll have you know, we were all just so impressed," Caesar smiled.

"You're impressed by me?" Lindon cried excitedly. "I mean, during my private session, I was just doing what I was good at. It's nothing that impressive, I promise."

"Oh, well the Gamemakers don't give out sevens to just anyone," Caesar said.

"I still can't even believe I'm here," Lindon said, looking around. "I mean, we always here about how wonderful the Capitol is back at home, but I never thought it'd be so cool in person."

"It is pretty impressive," Caesar agreed.

"Uh huh, and everyone's been so nice to me. I have those really good servers that have been waiting on me, and then i saw a few citizens the other day and they actually wanted to take pictures with me," Lindon continued to gush. "I can't even imagine how good the victors have it."

"So then you're not worried about the Games?" Caesar inquired.

"Well how bad could they be?" Lindon responded. Ajax shook his head as he went to write down some more notes on his pad. Lindon was quite the actor, selling the entire naïve innocent kid spiel to the Capitolites like it was nothing. Ajax had of course, seen the real District Seven boy as he had taunted Terra the day before. The other tributes were all clueless to how much of a threat he really was, even though he had managed to pull a seven. They had all better watch their backs.

The buzzer rang, and Lindon exited the stage. Next up came Colleen Reyna, looking even more nervous than Terra. Her eyes were pinned on the ground, not looking up even when Caesar greeted her. She wore a delicate purple strapless dress that puffed out around the bottom. She pulled at the fabric absently as she took her seat.

"I must say you look absolutely gorgeous in your dress," Caesar complimented.

"Thanks," Colleen muttered back.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Caesar started with the interview.

"Yeah," Colleen responded

"Well maybe we can make you feel a bit better then. What part are you most worried about?" Caesar pushed before the silence stretched for too long.

"I don't know," she shrugged, her pale shoulders looking frail under the spotlight.

"So you're just nervous about all of it then?" Caesar asked with a light laugh. The crowd laughed with him; although, unfortunately for Colleen, it didn't seem like they were enjoying her interview too much. Really it was her fault though. She needed to get her stage fright under control. She didn't even bother answering that one, instead she just shrugged. "Alright, then let's talk about your family. What do you think they think of all of this?"

"It's a lot," Colleen mumbled back, her voice breaking a bit.

"Yes, I can see what you mean there. It must be hard going from living a quiet life in District Eight to coming here to our big Capitol right?" Caesar asked. Colleen nodded.

The interview went on like that for the remainder of the time. Every now and then Caesar would manage to squeeze an extra word or two out of her, but in general, all of her responses didn't last longer than a yes or a no. The audience was bubbling with relief as she made her way over to the side of the stage, where the rest of the tributes were sitting in their line of chairs.

Ajax grew slightly pale as he watched Raven Textan enter the stage. He looked handsome in a dark blue suit that made his eyes glow in the spotlight. Ajax could still remember the latest conversation that he had with President Snow. _You watch what you allow that boy to say_, the President had told Ajax. _Because if you allow him to, Mr. Textan will start a rebellion and lead it too. If you fail, it won't just be your body that I'll be digging a grave for. _So Ajax had given the boy an eleven, beating out all of the careers.

Still, the President's words bothered him. Ajax was a big fan of the idea of equal opportunity. He understood that the Districts needed to be controlled, but he also thought that it was these kid's lives they were playing with. It wasn't fair for him to target the boy on the first day with some kind of mutt even if he was a threat to national security. Of course, he hadn't voiced these thoughts; he was just hoping that the eleven would be enough of an intervention to keep the boy from winning without the Gamemakers having to step in.

"Hello Caesar, how are you doing today?" Raven was saying as he shook the man's hand. A broad smile stretched across the boy's face as his eyes easily looked out into the crowd. He was made for this kind of spotlight.

"Quite well thank you, and how about yourself?" Caesar responded.

"I'm doing just fine," Raven nodded.

"So then Raven, when I first saw your name on the tribute list, I felt that I recognized your last name from somewhere, but I haven't quite been able to place my finger on where I've heard it before. Care to shed some light?" Caesar said.

"My dad's name is Garland Textan, he works as a prominent business executive in District Eight," Raven offered. Several oh's sounded in the crowd, as if it was just dawning on some of the rich business people that Raven was the son of a distant coworker. "I'm not surprised his name stuck with you. He's not the most forgettable man in the world."

"What do you mean by that?" Caesar asked curiously.

"Well," Raven began. "You remember those nasty giant frog mutts from the Games last year? Good you do, well, I'm sure you remember the face that one made when Ritz knocked it in the head with a rock." The audience laughed at the memory. "That is my father's happy face." Several more giggles came up at the comment.

"Sounds like a nice man," Caesar grinned.

"Oh he's just charming," the boy answered.

"So then where do you get your charisma from? Your mother?" Caesar asked.

That made Raven laugh. "No, on a normal day she's about as chatty as President Snow would be if we dressed him in Lena's dress," Raven answered.

"Lena?" Caesar inquired.

"My bad, Colleen. It's her nick name. I'm sure she would have told you that if she wasn't so nervous. Trust me she's not so bad once you get to know her. It's just takes some work to get her to start talking. Right Lena?" Raven grinned, waving over to his District partner. She looked traumatized as the cameras turned towards her. Raven was working damage control though as he shook his head. "No no, remember we talked about this. That's not how you smile. See, turn the corners of your mouth up, like this. There you go. See folks, look how pretty she looks once you've calmed her down a bit."

Lena sat in the row of tributes with a tentative smile on her face and a light blush in her cheeks. It wasn't hard to see why she was smiling though as Raven was currently standing up with his fingers pulling his mouth into a smile. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but the crowd was loving it. It was incredible actually. It looked like it might not matter that Lena had bombed her interview. Raven was going to be good enough to get the both of them sponsors.

"Wow, you're even better at my job than I am," Caesar floundered jokingly.

"The trick is that you have to be approachable Caesar," Raven said, placing his hand on the man's back as if he were comforting a nervous tribute.

"I'm not approachable?" Caesar asked looking flabbergasted.

"Well, I think your approachable, and I'm sure my dad might think you were approachable. But to some of those nervous kids in the Districts, you come off as a little scary," Raven said, giving Caesar a pitying look.

"Scary?" Caesar cried, absolutely shocked.

"Well yeah, look at you with your white hair and big personality, come on, you have to admit, it's a little intimidating," Raven said. The crowd by now was howling with laughter as they ate up Caesar and Raven's conversation. Unfortunately it was cut short by the buzzer sounding, and they had to move onto the next tribute.

"Ah, well I'll be sure to hunt you down after the show to get some more tips. Next up we have Skye Ager hailing from District Nine," Caesar called.

Skye walked out on stage a smile on her face as she waved to the audience. She didn't look too confident, but at the same time her nerves weren't quite as obvious as Lena's were a little earlier.

"It's nice to meet you Caesar," she said politely as she shook his hand.

The two sat down and Caesar got right down to business. "So, it's not often that we get a volunteer from one of the outer districts, but this year we've had two. What motivated you to volunteer?" Caesar asked.

"I wanted to bring glory to my District," Skye said as if the answer was obvious.

"Well that's the spirit," Caesar nodded approvingly. "But I also know that I recognize your name. Your younger sister played in last year's games didn't she?"

"Yeah, Dale was my sister," Skye muttered back, obviously looking like the wind had suddenly been knocked out of her.

"What are you going to do to make sure that you have a better fate than she did?" Caesar asked softly, noticing that she wanted to move onto another topic.

"I am a very hard person to catch Caesar, that's something that scores don't really show," Skye said, determination lighting up in her eyes again. "I'm going to beat the odds."

"So your fast then? What are your other strengths?" Caesar asked.

"Well I've gotten pretty good with my edible plants this week, and I'm stronger than I look," Skye smiled.

"Edible plants? Is that something you learned from back home working with all the different types of grain?" Caesar said.

"Actually no. There was a plant station during training. I must have memorized at least one hundred different types of poisonous and edible plants over the past few days," Skye said.

"You know that is a useful skill. It's always good when you have good crop of survivors for tributes," Caesar said.

"Good because I'm a survivor," Skye nodded. They chatted for a few more minutes, going over a few more of Skye's strengths and touching on a few possible weaknesses, though they didn't go into too much depth because that might give the other tributes a clue into the girl's strategy. And nobody would want that. Before long though, the buzzer rang, and Velt was walking over to Caesar's chair.

The boy looked absolutely adorable in a chipper brown suit that brought out the green in his eyes. The only flaw was the one black eye that the boy had been wearing sullenly since reaping day. During the chariot rides, the stylists had made an effort to cover it up, but it seemed that for the interviews they wanted it pronounced as it looked like they had enhanced it with some makeup. When he reached Caesar, he was the one to stretch out his hand for the handshake.

"Hiya," Velt said.

"How are you doing today young man?" Caesar asked.

"Okay I guess," Velt answered.

"Are you sure because your eye looks awful?" Caesar said.

"You should have seen the other guy," Velt grinned. The audience laughed as the boy gently touched the bruised skin under his eye.

"You got in a fight back at home then?" Caesar smiled back, looking impressed. "Did you win?" Velt shrugged, leaving the audience to make its own assumptions. "Well then how about that folks, it looks like we have a little brawler on our hands."

Velt smiled an innocent grin, looking about as non threatening as one could get. The audience cheered. It appeared that the little boy was winning over a good amount of fans.

"So then Velt, tell me, what would it mean to you to win the Hunger Games?" Caesar asked.

"Well, I really want to go back home to my family," Velt said. "My brother said that if I won, we'd get to go live in one of those really big houses in Victory Village. He said we could go be happy there."

The audience gave a big collective awwww as they watched Velt speak.

"Your not scared of the Games though are you?" Caesar asked.

"No," Velt shook his head. "I'm not all that afraid of dying. It doesn't seem so bad. I mean, um, I know this little boy back at my home. His dad used to be really mean to him, and he told me that he wasn't scared of dying. He said that if he died that minute, he wouldn't want his big siblings to be really sad about it because dying would mean that his dad would stop being mean to him. So, if that boy wasn't so afraid, then I'm not going to be so afraid. I just really hope that my brother and sisters won't be really upset if I don't come home. I don't want them to be sad because of me."

Velt suddenly looked straight into one of the cameras, as if he was talking to his family himself. Ajax wiped a tear away from his eye as the kid finished his little speech. Knowing Velt's history as he did, the boy's words really were touching.

"But I am going to try and win," Velt added, to make sure that was clear. "I'm going to try really hard."

On that note, the buzzer rang, and the boy walked to take his seat next to Skye. He left with the audience's hearts wrapped around his fingers. On the other end of the stage, Roan walked out. She wasn't wearing a dress like the other girls were. Instead she was wearing a style that some of the Capitolites liked to refer to as District Ten formal attire. It was similar to the cowboy outfit that she had worn to the chariot rides, except that in many ways it had been feminized. Instead of a vest on top, Roan wore a tight corset that made her look slim and fit. On the bottom, she wore dark blue-black jeans that tucked into fancy boots. Her shiny red hair was tucked loosely into a deliberate bun, bringing out the exact curves of her chin. No one would argue that she looked any less beautiful than the other girls in her District get-up.

"Nice to meet you Roan," Caesar smiled as the two sat down. "How has your stay been so far?"

"It's been interesting that's for sure," Roan said.

"Interesting, how so?" Caesar asked.

"Well, for one, my entourage is a little... different," Roan explained. "Angus, my mentor, he probably couldn't possibly be any less pleasant."

"Oh Angus?" Caesar smiled knowingly. "I'm sure that he hasn't been that bad."

"Have you ever heard of Palmer's greens?" Roan asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes they're simply delicious in salads," Caesar nodded, a curious look in his eye.

"Well I caught him snorting the stuff the other day while I was going to bed. He said he got it confused with something else he was supposed to be taking," Roan said, shaking her head. The audience cracked up at that. Angus Brown was famous for showing up to Hunger Games parties acting unnaturally cheery and smelling like smoke. Everybody knew that he would take any drug that he could get his hands on. Roan's story didn't surprise anybody. Lucky for Angus, he seemed to be missing from the audience at the moment, so the cameras couldn't get a glimpse of his reaction.

"Yes that does fall under the category of interesting," Caesar chuckled.

"That's not all though," Roan shook her head. "You've seen my escort right?"

"Of course, I know Cyran," Caesar nodded.

"I don't actually have a story about him, but honestly, I just think he's creepy," Roan shivered. The audience laughed as Caesar nodded in agreement. "No offense man, but red eyes will never be in fashion."

"True that," Caesar agreed. "On a different not though, how are you feeling about your chances in the Games? Any good tricks up your sleeve?"

Roan grinned, apparently sort of excited. "I'm feeling pretty good Caesar. I've made a few good allies these past few days, and I'm excited to finally get things started," she said.

"Can I ask who?" Caesar asked hopefully.

"Hmmm, well, I don't want to give away too much," Roan said thoughtfully. "You know what? How about I tell you, and just you."

"That sounds good to me," Caesar grinned. The girl leaned over, and whispered something into the host's ear. Ajax of course couldn't hear anything from where he was sitting, but it didn't matter. He already knew who her loyalties were with. Meanwhile the audience went wild, begging for them to share the little secret.

"Sorry folks, but it looks like your just going to have to wait until tomorrow," Caesar said as the buzzer rang. "Good luck in the Games Roan."

"Thanks," the girl called back as she made her way over to the growing line of tributes. Next up came Roland, looking rather groomed in navy pants, a white shirt, suspenders, a wide-brimmed brown hat, and a bolo tie. He shook Caesar's hand quickly before taking his seat.

"How are you feeling Roland?" Caesar asked clapping his hand on the boy's back.

Roland looked around the crowd anxiously and tipped his hat a little. "Pretty good sir," he said almost absently.

"Sir huh? It's good to see that District Ten has kept up with its classic charm," Caesar grinned. "I'll tell you, no body calls me sir around here."

"I suppose that's a bit of a shame," Roland replied respectfully. "I think my mama would have my head if I came here and called you by your first name." The audience laughed.

"Smart woman," Caesar nodded approvingly. "Do you have a big family then?"

"I guess so. I mean, I don't think its so big, not for a farming family, but compared to everyone's families here it's huge," Roland said.

"How many siblings do you have?" Caesar asked.

"Nine," Roland answered.

Caesar let out a low whistle as many of the Capitolites stared up at him in surprise. "You must have some brave parents," he commented.

Roland shrugged. "It's not so bad. My two older brothers, Mathew and me, we help out a lot, and my oldest sister is starting to get to the point where she can work more too. My parents need all the help they can get so that we can keep up with all the animals."

"Is Mathew younger than you?" Caesar went on.

"By nine minutes sir. We're twins," Roland nodded.

"Well, it sounds like you're going to have a pretty big cheering section during the Games then," Caesar smiled.

"Aw, I don't know about that. They can't all take off for the entire Games. Somebody's got to take care of all the cows. I wouldn't want them to loose the farm because of me," Roland shook his head.

"If you win though, then it wouldn't matter. You could go out and buy ten farms with all the money," Caesar pointed out.

"What if I don't win though," Roland countered, in the most respectful manner.

"That's no way to be thinking about the Games," Caesar cried, getting the audience involved. "We all want you to do your best."

"I'm going to try real hard sir, but look at all of them," Roland pointed to the row of tributes. "I think I've got some strong competitors. I don't think the odds are with me." He didn't sound dejected or defeated at all when the words came out of his mouth. He was simply stating the facts in the most humble of manners.

With that the buzzer rang, and Roland tipped his hat to Caesar, then to the audience. "Nice meeting you sir," he said as he walked to the other side of the stage to join Roan. Ivy strutted out onto stage next, her head held high, looking confident.

"Oh isn't your dress just stunning," Caesar admired, having her twirl around so that the white fluffs at the bottom danced in the air.

"Thank you Caesar, my stylist, Clouee Mcstair has really been wonderful," Ivy agreed. On the screens a woman with bright pink fluffy hair was waving off the compliment, obviously quite flattered with the attention.

"So I suppose that we should get down to the nitty gritty. As I was telling Skye earlier, we don't usually have volunteers from the outer districts, but this year we had two. Now Skye didn't look like she knew the girl who got reaped, but it looked as if you did. Is that why you volunteered, to save that little girl?"

Ivy nodded looking serious. "I'm an orphan Caesar," she began to explain. "Back home in Eleven, when you lose your parents, you get enveloped into a new family with all of the other orphans. I never actually lived in the local orphanage myself, but I spend all my free time there helping out the women who runs it. I feel like it's my duty almost, to help them all out. The girl who was reaped, her name was Beana, and I've known her since her parents died when she was six. I couldn't just let her come here all alone, she's like a little sister to me."

The audience all sighed in great adoration as Ivy's face pulled into a serious tightness. Her motherly nature was etched into her features.

"That's very commendable of you," Caesar complimented her. "I don't know if I would have had the courage to do that."

"It wasn't about courage," Ivy said. "It was just my natural reaction to the situation. I probably would have done it for anyone in my family back at the orphanage."

"What do you think you'll do with the money if you were to win?" Caesar asked.

"I'd give the orphanage a good renovation," she answered easily. "They don't have enough money to run that place as things are. The kids don't have beds or cloths, and it's a miracle that they all don't just drop dead from hunger. If I won, it'd do wonders for the kids back at home."

"And you think that you have a good chance of winning?" Caesar kept going.

Ivy's eyes went over to the other tributes, a cold look in their depths. "I think that the others should watch out because if I go down, I'm taking as many people with me as I can," she said. Ajax watched as Eros's mouth twitched into an excited smile as he made eye contact with the girl. Looking down at his notebook, the Gamemaker couldn't help but think, good luck with that.

The buzzer rang, and Ivy took her exit.

"And next, also hailing from District Eleven, with a big eight in training, I present to you Oatis Hanes," Caesar called.

Oatis bounded up onto the stage, his muscular frame displayed nicely in a black sweater vest as the audience cheered. After Raven, Oatis had scored the highest out of those in the outer districts, and therefore he already had quite a few fans in the crowd. Many had already betted hefty sums of money on him.

Waving in an almost shy manner to the crowd, Oatis took his seat. "So Oatis, whats your favorite part of the capitol so far?" Caesar began the interview.

"It's nice how easy everything is here," Oatis contemplated for a moment.

"Easy? How so?" Caesar pressed.

"I'm an orphan like Ivy," Oatis explained. "But I don't live in the orphanage. I've got four sisters, and we all live in a shack together. It's not much, but I pay for it. That's why I'm so strong. I must work ten two twelve hours in the fields every day, and then I come home and help with dinner or play with my youngest sister. Nothing comes as easy as it does here. It's sort of nice being waited on."

"Ah well, we would accept nothing less for our tributes. We have our good reputation to uphold," Caesar replied. Several audience members nodded in agreement. "But that seems like a lot of work for you back at home. You must have a lot worth fighting for."

Oatis's eyes crinkled as he nodded. "My sisters are my life," he said. "There's the oldest one, Lex, she helps me out with a lot of the work. Then there's Carrid. She's twelve and it was her first reaping this year. She was really nervous, but she kept trying to hide it because she didn't want us to worry about it. Vaddy is nine, and she can be a mess sometimes, but she's one of the happiest little girls you'll ever meet. Lastly there's Carmel, she's five and she thinks she's a princess. I hope that she's not giving Lex too much trouble right now though."

"They all sound wonderful. Do you have anything that you want to say to them? I'm sure they're watching right now," Caesar offered.

Oatis smiled. "Well, I hope that Carmel's not watching because it's past her bedtime. If she is though, then Lex, put her to bed. But, yeah, I really miss you guys, but I'm coming home. So don't worry about me," Oatis said, his voice cracking slightly at the end. It was heartbreaking really, watching the boy fend off tears at the thought of his home.

Ajax absently hoped that Oatis would at least make it past the first day. As he had mentioned before though, he was a man of equal opportunity. He planned to give these tributes as much free reign over their lives as President Snow would allow. Oatis and Caesar chatted for another couple of seconds before the buzzer rang.

District Twelve closed out the evening, as always, and starting off the final District of the night was Cassia Greene. She came out in a dress that was somewhere between sexy and cute. It was low cut, revealing just enough cleavage to get the worst of the Capitol pig's mouths wet, but girly enough in style that it didn't hit the prostitution end of provocative meter.

Caesar of course complimented her outfit, as he did with most of the girls, then the two began the interview.

"Has it been much of a change, coming to the Capitol from all the way out in District Twelve?" Caesar began.

"Nope, we have skyscrapers, high-tech trains, servants, and luxury food out the wazoo back at home," Cassia answered her voice lathered with sarcasm. Unfortunately though, the Captolites didn't quite catch it as they stared blankly at the girl. Her description of Twelve definitely didn't match those of previous tributes, and obviously the audience seemed to be puzzled.

"I'm joking," Cassia finally enlightened them. As if breaking a layer of ice, the crowd suddenly burst out laughing, realizing what they had missed. "But yeah, it's been a pretty big change. Like Eleven was just saying, food is a lot easier to get out here. Back at home I have a garden that I have to keep up with if I want to eat. And all of the technology is a lot nicer. We haven't got express coffee makers back at home or vacuum laundry shoots."

Caesar let out a playful gasp. "How do you live?" he cried comically. "A world without instant coffee? It must be horrifying!"

"It's definitely nothing like it is here, that's for sure," Cassia laughed. "I guess you can even see the difference in the people. Everyone back at home is always so sad and grumpy, but here it's like walking into a fairy tale. It must be the coffee."

"Yes it must," Caesar agreed. "I'll have to talk to President Snow to see what he can do right away. I'm sure he's already been horrified by this awful injustice."

"I'm sure," Cassia muttered back, the laughter suddenly gone from her face as a rueful smile twitched onto her lips. It probably went over all of the Capitolite's heads, but Ajax could tell that the girl was probably thinking about how the President wasn't going to lift a finger to do anything for Twelve.

"So you said you grow a garden then?" Caesar asked, continuing on with the interview. Cassia nodded and began going into great depth as she described all of the things that she grew. She said that she had hoped that if she expanded it enough, she would be able to get out of working as a coal-miner, and just work in her garden for her living, maybe selling her foods to some of the shops. Before long the buzzer went off, and it was time for the final tribute of the night to make his entrance.

Eshad came up to Caesar with an exceptionally pompous expression on his face. Just one look at the scrawny boy and it was obvious he thought the world of himself. He strutted across the stage, soaking in the audience's applause.

"No need to stare Caesar, I know I'm handsome," he said, as the two sat down.

"Oh you caught me," Caesar said putting up his hands as he played along with Eshad. "It's just your bone structure, it's fabulous."

"Thanks man," Eshad said. "I can't help it, I'm naturally awesome."

"Really? What's your greatest talent?" Caesar asked, leaning forwards like an adoring fan.

"Well you know, if you asked me during the reaping, I would have told you that I had some massive talent with really big swords, but I tried some new things over training the past few days and I've got to say, I'm pretty boss at the obstacle course," Eshad bragged.

Over in the corner of the stage where the other tributes sat, someone made a loud sound, not all that different form that of an dying rabbit. Ajax turned his eyes over towards the row, finding that both Eros and Foster seemed to be holding in laughter. In fact, Foster looked like he was about to cry from the effort. Ajax smiled a bit himself too, Eshad was truly terrible at everything he had done during training. Doing nothing probably would have been better for his chances at winning.

"That's a handy skill to have in the arena," Caesar commented.

"Uh huh, that and all of my other awesome skills," Eshad nodded. "You know, I'm the most popular kid in my grade back at home. The other kids my age worship me."

"I'm sure they do," Caesar grinned, though somehow there was too much humor in the host's eyes for his comment to be completely genuine. It seemed that nobody in the room was really buying Eshad's act. The boy just didn't have that it factor. What a shame.

"Oh yeah, I have to tell people to go away sometimes because they're crowding me. I can only take so much love, you know," Eshad said.

"The life of a celebrity is a rough one," Caesar nodded.

"That's a good comparison actually," Eshad said, jumping on Caesar's wording. "Back at home I was sort of like the District celebrity, and now that I got reaped, I'm going to be like a Panem-wide celebrity. I'm pretty awesome."

At this point Ajax tuned out. The interviews were about over, and he had to get a good night's sleep. The Games started tomorrow, and he needed to be on his toes. The upcoming days were only going to be the most important week or two of his life after all. There was no way he was going to allow himself to screw it up.

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**A/N NO MORE INTERVIEWS HALLELUJAH! (This chapter was 6500 words in case you were wondering) So I'm super excited. The next chapter will run from the night before the Games, to the morning of, and it will end with the reveal of the arena. Then after that will be the bloodbath and from there on out, we'll be in the Games. I'm so freaking excited, I feel like I could write a novel. Get it, haha, I'm funny. (sorry for the bad joke, it's late and I'm tired). **

**Any who, I hope your as excited as I am because it's going to be awesome. I of course already know exactly who the winner is, and when, how, and why all the other's are going to die. I just hope that I don't start losing readership once tributes start to drop. I hear that's when people start leaving- once their tributes bite the dust. But I guess I'll be here whether you are or not though. Until next time. **


	24. And Winter Begins

Autumn Mistveil, 17, District 1

* * *

Autumn walked into her room feeling empty and disappointed. She knew that there was a lot riding on the interviews, and she had botched her's royally. She just wasn't prepared for that question about Sterling. It wasn't something she had expected. Of course, there was no excuse for her reaction. There was nothing going on between her and Eros's mentor. Still, she couldn't figure out why the question bothered her so much.

"Knock knock," a cheery voice said as someone entered her room. Glancing up, Autumn found Sterling himself standing in her doorway, looking amused.

"Hey," Autumn said half-heartedly.

"You did great in your interview," Sterling said with a humorous grin. Autumn glared at him with a decided frown. "I'm not kidding, you did."

"Don't lie, I messed up pretty badly," Autumn frowned unhappily.

"Oh, you mean when they asked about me? Yeah that was pretty funny," Sterling snickered. Autumn glared at him feeling annoyed and uncharacteristically moody. She supposed she deserved to play the hormonal teenager for at least one evening though. After all, she could be nothing but level-headed for the next week or two, that is, if she wanted to live. "But, I don't think it hurt your chances at all," Sterling went on, his dark eyes watching her carefully. "If anything, the fact that they think there's something scandalous going on will probably help you."

"There's not anything going on though," Autumn pointed out.

"And how are they going to know that," Sterling said softly.

"I guess they're not," Autumn muttered in agreement, her eyes glazing over in thoughtfulness. Perhaps she hadn't screwed up her interview that badly after all.

"This isn't why I'm here though," Sterling announced suddenly as he leaped over towards Autumn's dresser and grabbed a bottle of champagne that he had hidden inside one of her drawers. "I wanted to celebrate. Today's the last night that we'll be together before you're a big shot victor like me. I need to be taking advantage of your inferiority while I can."

"Alcohol Sterling? I think my mom would disapprove," Autumn rolled her eyes.

"Ah, your mom loves me," Sterling shook his head as he poured her a glass. "Anyway, I won't let you get too drunk. One glass isn't going to kill anybody."

"Shouldn't you be giving Eros a pep-talk or something? You are his mentor you know," Autumn reminded him.

"We've talked about this. I don't really like Eros that much, and you are much better company," Sterling rolled his eyes. "Don't shoot me that look. I'll still work with his sponsors and stuff. You're allies anyway, if I started to withhold gifts and stuff like that it'd hurt everyone. Just don't break up the alliance until somebody has offed him. Then my problems will be solved."

"That's awful you know," Autumn smiled.

"Have you watched the Games before?" Sterling reminded her. Autumn rolled her eyes and smiled again as Sterling took a seat next to her on her bed. She was still in her skimpy interview dress, and suddenly she was acutely aware of it. Sterling was also still in the cloths he had worn to the interviews. It wasn't as fancy as some of the tribute's outfits, just a basic black suit with a dark red tie. His hair was spiked up, the way the Capitolites liked it, and it looked sort of stiff up close like this.

"To another District One victory," Sterling said, clinking his glass against hers. The two sat there on Autumn's bed for another half an hour or so, just talking strategy. They discussed what they knew of the other tributes, going over some of the bigger threats like the boys from District Eight and Eleven. Then their conversation drifted away from the Capitol back to life at home in Victor's Village. Sterling mentioned how he planned to start commuting to the Training Academy for his job as one of the trainers as opposed to living on campus. Autumn talked about her excitement at the prospect of returning to the Village and living near her mom again. Soon enough though, the clock beeped, signaling lights out for the tributes.

Standing up, Sterling took Autumn's glass from her, and the two walked over towards the door. Suddenly Sterling paused. "Hey Autumn," he began.

"Yeah?" she asked tiredly.

"Remember, I'm rooting for you," he said. With that, he leaned forwards, smashing his lips into hers. Somehow though, Autumn had expected it, and she placed her hands on his chest, breathing in his scent of Capitol soap and home. He leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close. He tasted like the sweet champagne they had just finished drinking. A moment of pure happiness bubbled in Autumn's chest as she ran her fingers around his torso, feeling the hard muscle beneath his nice shirt. After a few moments, Sterling broke off the kiss, though their bodies were still entwined with each other.

"What were they saying about rumors earlier?" Sterling muttered, his voice low and throaty as he moved his lips over, kissing Autumn's neck.

"I don't even remember," Autumn smiled quietly. Pushing him away slightly, her eyes twinkled in amused joy. "I have a big day tomorrow. You need to go away."

Sterling groaned, as he pulled her closer and kissing her again. "You look so damn hot in that dress," he muttered.

"Mmhmm, and I'm sure I'll look even better in a victory gown, but I'm not going to win if I don't get any sleep tonight," she chastised.

Accepting defeat, Sterling sighed. His eyes were filled with desire as he slowly backed away towards the door. "I've been waiting to do that since you told me to bug off on my fifth day on the job at the Tribute Academy."

"Is that why you won't seem to listen when I keep telling you to go away?" Autumn rolled her eyes.

"Good night Autumn," Sterling whispered quietly as he stepped into the hall way. "And good luck."

* * *

Conner Trayston, 14, District 6

* * *

Two figures lay on the bed, both wide awake. The boy had his head on the pillows as he stared absently at the ceiling. His hands folded neatly on his chest as he blinked over at the clock. It was two in the morning, only four more hours until he would be leaving, probably for good. The girl on the other hand, had her feet propped up by the boy's head. A few pillows had been shoved under her torso, so that she could easily sit up enough to see him. Both of their faces were grim.

"My mentor said that I'm supposed to go run and grab a small pack from the outskirts of the cornucopia, then bolt," Conner told his friend. "I thought I should listen to him, but I wanted to swing it by you first. I think if our situations were switched, you'd do much better in the Games than me. You were always better at stuff you had to be brave for."

Lassie shrugged, her eyes sad.

"You think I should listen too then," Conner nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

Silence echoed around the room for a little while. It wasn't easy to keep up a conversation with somebody who couldn't respond, but despite the obvious difficulties, Lassie's company was immensely comforting for Conner. If this was how he was going to spend his last night, he figured it wasn't so bad.

Lassie sat up slowly, and Conner looked up disappointed. "Do you have to go already?" he asked feeling panicked. She shook her head, and jumped to her feet, rumaging through some of the drawers. Finally she found what she was looking for- the pocket square that would be his token come morning. He could see the delicate green "T" for Trayston that had been stitched into the fabric from his spot on the bed.

Finding a maker, Lassie twisted the cloth around, and uncapped her writing utensil. If it was anybody else moving to defile his dad's pocket square, Conner would have freaked, but it was just Lassie. Anything she did to it was probably some kind of improvement anyway. He trusted her. The marker squeaked as Lassie dragged its tip against the soft silk of the fabric. A moment later she held it up so that he could see.

Smiling, Conner went over to take it. She had drawn a little black "L" in the opposite corner of the "T". Now he had one object to remember them both by. "Thanks," Conner muttered, taking the pocket square and squeezing between his hands.

He would never be able to say that he was ready for the following day, but at least he could say that he wasn't paralyzingly terrified anymore.

* * *

Terra Oasis, 15, District 7

* * *

Terra woke up in her bed feeling groggy and disoriented. She did not remember much from the previous night. One minute she had been exiting the interview stage ready to return to her room, and the next everything was dark. Glen must have taken over for a little while the previous night. She sighed and stood up. Looking out the window, she found that it wasn't quite dawn yet. That meant she probably had a few minutes before her stylist came in.

She took the time to clean herself up a bit. It appeared that Glen hadn't had the decency to completely shower off all of the makeup from the pervious night. She was wearing pajamas at least, but eye shadow was smeared along the side of her face, and her skin felt dry. With one last sigh, she looked herself in the mirror, taking in her reflection for what would probably be the last time.

At least she wouldn't be conscious during what would no doubt be a painful death. Glen would most likely be the one around for the worst parts of the murder. That was the extent of her optimism about the Games.

A small knock echoed on the door, and Celestial Nova, Terra's stylist poked her head in the door. The woman looked quite mystical with her pitch black hair and starry make-up design that decorated her face. She eyed Terra with an almost grandmotherly fondness. She alone had made Terra feel at home over the past couple of days.

"I brought you some cloths," Celestial said as she entered the room.

Terra smiled and took the simple white outfit from Celestial's arms. Slipping into the cloths she nodded to her stylist, signaling that she was ready to go.

Thankfully, Terra didn't pass Lindon as she and Celestial rode the elevator to the roof. Maybe she would be able to separate from her District Partner during the bloodbath. He couldn't force her into an alliance if he never met up with her in the first place. Also, though she didn't want to admit it, there was no denying that just the sight of Lindon was starting to trigger Glen. Right now any little interaction could make her lose everything.

On the roof, a rope ladder was lowered down for Terra and Celestial. Looking nervously at her stylist, Terra took the rope, feeling herself freeze as she was raised into the hovercraft. Once at the top, some woman jabbed a tracker into her arm, telling her to be still. For a minute Terra attempted to resist, but the rope was holding her in place. It was over in an instant though, and soon enough, Celestial was beside her again, making her feel calm.

The two were led into a personal room with a dining table inside. Breakfast was laid out on a counter for them, buffet style. Terra didn't feel like eating though.

"You'll be hungry later if you don't eat now," Celestial warned her. "Try and get down as much as you can."

Terra looked bleakly at the woman, knowing she was right. "Alright," she muttered defeated. Making a disgustingly large plate for herself, Terra began picking at the stuff, and bit by bit, she made it go down.

The entire time, she couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the last meal she ever ate.

* * *

Luna Morristeen, 15, District 5

* * *

Luna walked into her catacomb, shivering. They weren't even in the arena yet, and she could already feel the chilly air radiating from above. "Looks like it's going to be cold this year," she muttered to her stylist, Hero Watson.

The woman nodded in agreement as she pursed her lips slightly. She wasn't much of a talker, and hadn't paid that much attention to Luna during the hovercraft ride. Luna wasn't sure if it was because Luna didn't look like she had a chance at winning or whether she was just always that way. For her sanity, Luna had been leaning towards the later. Hero had been a stylist for several years now, and it couldn't be easy watching so many tributes die.

As instructed, Luna made her way over to the corner of the room, and took a quick shower, making sure to clean herself well. If she survived until the next day, no doubt she'd be feeling dirty. She at least wanted to make sure that she didn't have any grime on her going into the arena. Once she finished, Hero meticulously put her hair back in a simple high bun, making sure that none of it would fall out.

"Your token," Hero said, handing Luna her golden locket. She took it, opening it up and taking in the images of her family. On the right side of the locket, Ignacio, Ezra, and her parents stared back at her. Then on the left a picture of two blonde little girls, dancing in a circle, sat inside the golden heart frame. Luna could feel her stomach swell with longing as she looked over the photos. Closing the locket, she slipped the necklace over her head. She would have time to stare at the pictures later, she promised herself.

"I have your arena cloths too," Hero said, handing her a fat sealed package. Luna carefully opened it up, examining the contents.

Luckily, it appeared that her outfit was warm. It started off with a simple cotton black long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of white long under ware. Then came the thick nylon black pants that came with an elastic belt to keep them up. Lastly, there was a thick black jacket that was fuzzy on the inside, and made of the same smooth black material that the pants were made of on the outside. The only visible part of the outfit that wasn't white was the inside of the hood, which was a combination of white and grey fur.

Luna frowned. If it was as cold as she thought it was that meant there would be snow, and if there was snow, then this outfit would stick out like a sore thumb in the arena. For a few minutes she wished that she had stayed in the camouflage station a bit longer during training, but it was too late for that now.

"Ready?" Hero asked. Luna nodded, and walked over to the tube. A few seconds later, she felt herself beginning to rise.

Well, it appeared she had been right about the snow because at first, that was all she could see. Around her everything was coated in a world of white. It was as if her sight had just been completely eclipsed by a huge wintry blur. The white was blinding, leaving Luna to her other senses to register her surroundings. This of course didnt do her much good as the only other thing she could feel was the hiting cold. Her nose was already beginning to run as what little heat she had accumulated in the catacombs was lost.

As her eyes adjusted though, she could see that it was so much more than just a homogenous scape of milk-colored land. In front of her, the cornucopia stood out, a huge see-through structure that looked ominous. It was made out of pure glassy ice, and she could just make out the dozens of deadly weapmiddles use its slightly warped walls. Looking around, she could easily find each of the other tributes, as they were each noticeable black eye soars on the pure landscape.

Behind her a forest erupted from the ground. The trees were completely barren, and she couldn't find one green thing in sight, but it was a source of concealment. The opposite side of the cornucopia was harder to make out. For a long moment, she thought it was just an empty winter desert with no source of food, shelter, or life. Upon a second look though, she realized that the ground was rising. A few stray trees could be found in the distance, each one higher than the one before it. A mountain- the word processed in her brain. The peak, unfortunately, was impossible to make out. The sky was completely coated in a layer of thick clouds that were the same color as the ground. The apex of the mountain disappeared in the fog, leaving that end of the arena shrouded in semi-mystery.

A loud thrumming echoed in Luna's ears, like the beat of her own heart. Then she realized, the count down had begun. Sixty seconds was all she had. Then the Games would truly begin.

* * *

**A/N: This is the last chapter before the Games, the bloodbath will come next. Also as of tomorrow my spring break ends so it'll be back to longer updates. Sorry. Until next time.**


	25. The Bloodbath

All Tributes

* * *

Drums. The sound of drums thrummed in the air. Twenty four tributes felt their blood pulse, each beat thumping in unison. A voice spoke in rhythm, counting down.

_Fifty_

_Forty-Nine_

_Forty-Eight_

A million thoughts buzzed through crowded minds, passing and going in an instant.

Eros glanced ahead, his eyes gluing on a mace, his mace, but then he saw who was next to him- Oatis the hulking giant from Eleven who scored an eight in training. Perhaps the mace should wait.

Roland's eyes scanned the ground, landing on a large heap of coiled rope. He felt his muscles tense over as adrenaline took him. In that moment, he needed nothing more but to feel the rough tweed in his palms. That wasn't what the plan was though. They all were supposed to run, leaving the Cornucopia far behind them. Instructions meant more to Roland than his own life. He knew he wouldn't be able to force his body to run to that rope no matter how bad he wanted to.

But how could he run when his rope was laying just feet away from him?

Raven, who was stationed two pedestals to the left of his ally, caught the conflicted look on Roland's face, knowing immediately what he would have to do.

Totem tasted the cold in the air with immense dismay. Her mentor had told her not to risk the bloodbath. He had been so adamant about it that he had sat her down for an hour-long strategy talk about the disadvantages of dying. She had told him that she understood, but this brutal winter weather was a game changer. She needed her pick of supplies. Smiling like a mad woman, Totem made up her mind. She had a plan.

Lindon gazed around the circle of tributes, looking for Terra. In a moment of complete and utter terror, he thought he couldn't find her, but then, as the countdown began to become louder, beating in his bones, he found her. The best part? She hadn't found him. Standing almost half way around the circle, Terra had a hopeful smile on her face. Lindon crouched down. He was ready to run.

Eshad looked to his right, grinning as he found Chateaux beside him. In his mind, the girl was his ally, as there was no planet where he would accept that they had truly rejected him. He would fight beside her during the bloodbath. It would be epic.

_Twenty-Two_

_Twenty-One_

_Twenty_

Kyla could feel the panic surfacing in her chest. Watching at home, these agonizing sixty seconds had always made her pulse race. The images of her dead brothers and her best friend flashed before her eyes. She stopped herself before tears started to fall from her eyes. Now was not the time to grieve. This was her Hunger Games, and she had to win. Focus, she told herself. Focus.

Velt scanned the ground nearby, searching for something light and useful. He and Belle had worked their strategy earlier. If there was a forest, and there was, Belle would immediately break for the woods while he ran, grabbed a pack, and then got out. He was the faster of the two kids, and in the event of an emergency, he was a good climber. About mid way to the Cornucopia, a sizable pack sat on the ground. Focusing on that, the boy lowered himself into a ready crouch.

A few podiums away, Skye focused on the very same pack.

_Five_

_Four_

_Three_

_Two_

_... One_

Mayhem.

Almost immediately, Eros let out a warrior cry, as he threw his body into Oatis's side. The two muscular boys crashed into the snow, rolling slightly on the ground. Neither of them were near any form of weaponry. It would be a battle of the fists. The stronger, more talented man would win.

Oatis struggled under the weight of the career, twisting his body so that his back was against the ground. The wind had been knocked out of him when Eros's body slammed into his. He wasn't ready for it. The original plan had been to get away from the Cornucopia, but everything had changed now.

Eros pulled himself upright above Oatis, swinging his body around so that he was sitting on top of the tribute. With another bloody war cry, he swung his fist downwards, hitting Oatis in the jaw, then in the nose. His fist felt bitterly cold and wet as blood coated his knuckles. Oatis wasn't done yet though. He used his sheer physical power to heave Eros off of him, sending him flying over Oatis's head. Scrambling to his feet, he lumbered around, finding that Eros had already recovered. Crouching down defensively, Oatis prepared himself as Eros launched himself at his opponent again.

Meanwhile on the other end of the Cornucopia, Belle, Lena, and Layton had already bolted, all three running into the forest. Luna hesitated a moment, distracted as the boy who had been stationed next to her, Leighton, ran forward into the brawl, but in another instant the trance broke, and she ran off too.

Roland stood frozen on his platform, staring at the coil of rope, not knowing whether to break away to the forest, or whether to go get it.

Suddenly Raven broke into his periphery vision. The boy from Eight ran with deliberate speed. Pausing briefly to throw the heavy mass of rope over his shoulder, before running towards Roland. His face was contorted with focus as he strained to keep up his speed. On the ground a thick layer of snow was matted down. Every time a tribute's foot fell it made a small crunching sound in the snow. Around the Cornucopia, the snow was shallow and running was difficult but manageable. The closer they were to the forest though, the deeper it got. All of the escaping tributes were acutely aware of the wet white flakes under their feet as they made their way to safety.

The sight of his ally unfroze the tribute from Ten, and Roland quickly jumped off of his platform, tailing Raven as they made their way into the woods.

Foster barreled forwards, running straight into the Cornucopia. He was the first one to make it inside, and he didn't waste any time. Quickly, he grabbed a bow and a sheath of arrows that was on the wall.

Outside, Skye and Velt both scrambled forwards; however, Velt was closer and faster. He reached the pack first, taking it with him as he made his way off to the woods. Skye, realizing that she had just lost her best quarry, froze, looking around. Making a quick decision, she ran forwards, venturing deeper towards the weapons. She would not leave without grabbing something of use. Quickly she picked out a small dagger that was lying towards the outer edge of the weapon ring and a small stray tin lunch box that was on her way there. Turning around, she started sprinting towards the mountain, feeling liberated for a moment. She was home free.

A sudden shooting pain sent her flying into the ground. She cried out miserably as she looked down. An arrow was lodged in her calf, and blood was already beginning to leak out of the wound. Ignoring the pain, she continued to run, disappearing into the white din of the mountain.

Foster cursed as he strung another arrow. The bow was weighted oddly, making him miss his first shot. Pulling the string taut again, he searched for his next victim. Leighton looked up from the box of food he was dragging across the ground just in time to see Foster release the arrow. This time, it hit it's mark, sinking into the boy's skull right between his eyes. Leighton died with a knowing sad smile on his face. He never expected to make it out of the bloodbath. Hopefully his mother would be able to go on without him.

Conner ran forwards, diving into the Cornucopia feeling panicked. He had never planned to come this far into the danger zone, but he had acted without thinking. Now he was literally inside of the big horn, and there was only one way out. Grabbing a large sharp-looking blade, Conner chopped a bag of fruit off of the wall before sprinting outside, making his way madly towards the mountain. Unfortunately, at the mouth of the big ice structure, Autumn stood, slowly brandishing two unnaturally sharp twin swords. Conner threw the bag over his shoulder, and boldly moved towards the girl, praying that he could bring about a miracle.

He broke into a sprint once the gap between them had closed significantly. If he were lucky, he would have managed to juke around Autumn, and kept going. He wasn't lucky though. She slashed low, cutting a deep gash across both of his shins. Tumbling to the ground, Conner squirmed around in a sad attempt to defend himself as Autumn swung her blade down into his torso, lodging it in the middle of his chest. He was defeated.

Autumn looked up, finding Roan rummaging through a stack of knives. "Are you good?" she asked quickly.

"I can't find my cleaver," Roan grunted back. "I'm fine though, go."

Around the tail of the Cornucopia, Kegan prowled by the girl from Twelve, two hooked knives in his hands. She held her machete with skill, but she was no fighter. Stepping inside her range, Kegan used one of his knives to block her swing. Just before he lodged the other one into her gut, the girl went limp, falling forwards onto Kegan. Surprised, he lept backwards, letting Cassia's corpse fall to the ground.

Chateaux's slim figure stood behind Cassia's body. A smirk played across the girl's face as she heaved a long jagged sword out of Cassia. Dumbfounded, Kegan glared at her. "You stole my kill," he cried unhappily.

A boney hand suddenly patted Chateaux on the back.

"Nice jo-"

Before Eshad even finished his sentence, Chateaux had already spun around, stabbing the boy in the stomach. With a shocked look on his face, Eshad dropped, quite dead, next to his District partner. As most of the other tributes had already cleared out, the two careers walked over towards Eros, who was still knee deep in his wrestling match. Neither planned on intervening, but they had every expectation of enjoying the show.

Eros and Oatis were in the middle of a vicious wrestling match. Both boys had blood smeared across their faces and splattered across their cloths. Eros grinned as he nailed Oatis in the side of the head again. It had been a long time since Eros had fought a worthy wrestling opponent, it was exhilarating.

Ivy stood, terrified, just inside the tree line as she watched Oatis fall back, blood dripping from his nose. She felt so incredibly helpless. Somewhere inside of her, the girl that had volunteered screamed for her to run forwards and help her District partner, but she couldn't force her feet to move. It was hopeless. The other five careers and Roan were now all crowded around Eros and Oatis, just watching. They would never let her interfere.

Oatis stood up, obviously wobbly, only to be knocked down again by Eros. Ivy began to hyperventilate wondering why she had ever volunteered. Thoughts of Beana were so far from her mind now. All that she could see was the bodies strew across the ground, and Oatis, who would surly be joining their ranks soon. Though her District partner was stronger than Eros, he was not experienced in fighting. Every time he swung his fist out to attack, Eros would nimbly dodge and spin around, returning with something twice as awful. Oatis had lasted longer than every other bloodbath tribute, which was commendable, but he wouldn't be able to last forever. With a final punch, Eros sent the death blow, hitting Oatis squarely in the temple. Blood spilled from Oatis's head as his body hit the ground limply.

Ivy squealed out in pain and terror. That was her fatal mistake.

Foster heard the noise first, and reacted naturally. He already had an arrow notched into his bow. In one swift motion, he brought up the bow and released. He didn't even look to see his target, relying completely on his ears to locate it's source. Ivy watched the arrow sink into her chest, gently raising her hands and clasping them around it as she died.

Meanwhile in the forest, Terra began to slow down her run. She had gotten out of the Cornucopia the minute the countdown had reached one. Her only goal had been to get away from Lindon, and it looked like she had succeeded. In the distance, she could hear the sound of some girl screaming, as the fighting went on, but it was a mile away from her as she trotted through the snow. She had been lucky enough to find a path where it wasn't so deep. The snow only went up past her boots when she stepped down. It wasn't easy to work through, but it was doable.

Terra gave a proud huff as she shoved her cold hands into her pockets. Glen hadn't tried to take over even once yet. Clearly her self control was improving. Truly it was a stroke of good luck.

She should never have let the feeling of security set in. Just a moment or two after she began to relax, a smug voice rang through the air.

"Trying to get away?" Lindon asked. To the audience, it probably sounded like he was joking, but Terra knew better.

"Lind-" she started to choke out in a shocked whisper. Her body convulsed forwards mid-sentence as Glen showed his face. Rolling onto the ground, she began to rock back and forth, her eyes moving in and out of focus.

Lindon froze, unsure of himself. He hadn't counted on her losing it so soon. He needed her to have control, otherwise, she would be beyond his reach. He needed somebody like Terra to be able to manipulate. It was her utter fear of him that had kept Lindon in one piece over the past week. Glen wasn't aloud to come out yet. Of course, Glen didn't follow by anybody's rules.

Terra lifted her head, a strained look in her eye. "I... told... you," she roared angrily, fighting with her own body. Lindon took a step back, feeling slightly worried. In an instant, the tension went out of Terra's frame. Somebody had won the mind battle, though he didn't know who.

"Terra, you feeling okay?" he laughed uneasily.

She smiled at him sadistically. "Guess again," she sang. Terra, or rather Glen now, launched herself at Lindon. Her nails raked across his face as the two fell backwards, into a mound of snow. Lindon, who was never good in close combat, locked his arms around her in hopes of demobilizing her attacks. In a sense it worked as Glen thrashed around, trying to break away from Lindon. It was amazing how strong his grip was when his life was on the line though.

Feeling a surge of anger go through him, Lindon released Glen suddenly, pulling his knee up and jamming it into her gut. Glen howled in pain, clenching his stomach as she glared at Lindon. Before she had a chance to recover though, Lindon jumped on top of her, his hand finding her throat. He thrashed her head against the ground, strangling her with rage.

"NOBODY DISOBEYS ME," he roared. Glen struggled on the ground for a minute before the light faded from her eyes. Glen was gone, taking Terra to the grave with her.

Falling backwards, Lindon sneered madly. His eyes fixated on his dead District partner with fury. Something within the boy had changed.

Back at the Cornucopia, Eros stood up, raising his hands in victory. "I did it. I killed the mighty beast," he bragged, his hands still coated with blood. "You all may have killed the weaklings, but I beat down District Eleven, the boy who dared to score an eight."

"I mean you didn't beat down all of Eleven," Foster protested with a small grin. "I mean, I got the girl. Oh, and the boy from Three. And I injured the girl from Nine. I think that should count for more. It's an extra kill."

"I got two kills too though," Chateaux smirked. "Both from Twelve."

"You only got the girl from Twelve because she was otherwise preoccupied," Kegan retorted bitterly. "She was my kill. I was going to get her."

"Well you were moving to slow. Maybe if you had been more proactive like Eros, you would have been able to get whoever was on the pedestal next to you. Instead of, you know, getting no kills whatsoever," Chateaux rolled her eyes.

"I knew she was my favorite," Eros beamed proudly, his eyes batting at Chateaux in their seductive way.

"Tackling other tributes on a whim is impulsive and impractical. Anyway, what about Autumn, Roan and Kyla. They didn't get any kills either," Kegan pointed out hotly.

"I got the boy from Six," Autumn corrected quietly as she watched her allies bicker with a thoughtful expression.

"And I couldn't find my cleaver," Roan added, holding up a large butcher's knife. "They had hidden it under one of the food barrels, and I'm not trained. I wouldn't have won a fight without a weapon."

Eyes turned to Kyla, awaiting an explanation, when in fact, there wasn't one. Kyla had frozen on her pedestal, watching the others ruthlessly kill their enemies in horror. Looking around embarrassed, her eyes suddenly settled on an extra corpse. The girl from Six, Totem, was lying on the ground immobile. One of the other tributes must have killed her.

"That one, the girl from Six," Kyla blurted out impulsively. "I killed her."

Chateaux looked back, a cool smirk on her face. "See Kegan. You're the only one without a good excuse," she said.

"You _stole_ my kill," Kegan repeated his hands flying out at the injustice.

"We should really clear out so that they can collect the bodies," Autumn interrupted before the argument could escalate. She didn't think that any of her allies would attack each other, but she was acutely conscious that it was an option for them now. She needed to make sure there weren't too many hard feelings going around.

"Wait. I saw some gloves in some of the packs," Roan said before they started to move out into the forest. The other careers turned to her, some of them looking at their hands surprised. It was true, they weren't given gloves before going into the arena. They had pockets sure, but they had weapons to carry. Suddenly all of them were flexing their hands, realizing just how cold it was in the arena. It wasn't as noticeable during the bloodbath when adrenaline was running high and all of them were breaking a sweat. Now that they were calming down though, the freezing cold moved to the front of their minds. Going anywhere without gloves would be dangerous. Roan herself felt like her fingers were frozen to the cleaver she was holding.

"Sounds like a plan," Foster agreed. The group bounded over to the supplies, rummaging through different packs until they each had a spiffy pair of gloves on their hands. Kegan also found packets of heat gel in one of the crates that was set up in the middle of the Cornucopia. Opening a pack and rubbing the cream onto any cold skin could warm a tribute up just as effectively as any fire.

"Ready to go hunting?" Eros grinned.

"Let's go," Foster chirped back.

With that the careers disappeared into the forest.

The minute they were gone, one of the dead bodies moved, stiffly standing to it's feet. Totem grinned as she watched the careers disappear into the forest."Idiots," she muttered under her breath as she snickered at their stupidity. That was really too easy. All she did was jump off her platform into the snow and play dead. It had been cold, pressing her cheek limply against the snow, but totally worth it. Now she had free reign over all the Cornucopia goodies. And the best part? That girl from Four had taken credit for killing her. Now all the careers thought she was dead. That would give her a full day to get as far away from them as possible before they realized that they had been lied to. She wished she could be there when the six of them realized that the girl from Four was lying.

Walking over to the pile of supplies in the middle of the Cornucopia, she picked up a short sickle that was no doubt, meant for her. She twirled it in her hand as she meticulously went through the rest of the stuff. She picked up a backpack, slipped on a pair of gloves, stole two handfuls of heating gel, and took what felt like two tons of food. She was probably set for weeks now. Above, Totem heard the sound of a hovercraft overhead, and she listened to the comforting sound of its motor as she cheerfully skipped towards the mountain, taking care to go in the opposite direction of the careers.

* * *

**A/N: R.I.P Leighton, Conner, Terra, Oatis, Ivy, Eshad, and Cassia. Most of these tribtues were submitted as bloodbath tributes. Unfortunately, I didn't recieve enough bloodbaths to save all of the regular submitted characters. If your tribute kicked the can unexpectedly early, then either I was having writer's block with them, or you submitted multiple characters so I didn't feel so bad about killing one of them.**

**Any who. Hopefully I did a good job with this chapter. It was definitely a challenge writing so much action in that one instant without making things too confusing. But I had fun doing it. I'm updating the blog as we go, so it reflects present time. That means some of the tributes kill count will have gone up (ex. Foster now has 2 kills on the stats book) and others have had their status changed (ex. Leighton is now deceased not alive, and Skye is now injured). Any who, until next time.**


	26. Reunited

Belle Mechan (D3) and Velt Ganger (D9)

* * *

It was about mid-day and the sun was high in the sky on the vast wintry landscape. Despite the time of day, the air was still biting. It appeared that the fight against the cold would be paramount in most of the tribute's survival concerns. With the surplus of thick snow that coated the entire arena, only a truly dense tribute would die of thirst, and though food wasn't easy to come by in the barren winter, starving was the most uncommon cause of death in the Hunger Games. Most were murdered long before they ever had a chance to perish of that weakness.

Velt and Belle waded slowly through knee-deep snow, sweat freezing on their brows as they exerted themselves. They had learned about a half an hour after the bloodbath that standing still made the cold worse. When they were moving, at least it was bearable. Velt still hadn't opened the pack that he bore on his back. The two had a silent agreement that they wanted to get further away from the Cornucopia before they stopped for too long.

"I think we're far enough away," Belle panted finally as they made their way to a small clearing in the trees. The snow wasn't as deep here, and it seemed like it would be a decent place to rest. There wasn't any shrubbery though, so food wouldn't be so easy to come by.

"You want to make a fire or something?" Velt asked. "I don't think they'll see the smoke. It's too cloudy out."

Belle nodded. "Let's check out the pack first though. Maybe there will be some matches or flint in there."

Velt swung the black bag off of his back and it landed with a heavy thump onto the ground. Taking his red hands out of his pockets he quickly zipped the bag open and began rummaging through its contents.

The very first thing he found was a pair of heavy warm looking gloves. Immediately he slipped one onto his hand, feeling the relief from the cold air immediately. Glancing longingly at the other one, he held it up for Belle to see. "Do you want it?" he asked timidly. "We can share." Belle took the glove and slipped it onto her hand before swiftly placing the other hand back into her pocket.

"Thanks," she said cheerfully as she scooted closer to Velt so that she could see inside the pack too. The two sat there, silently taking inventory for a few minutes. They had one small knife, two full canteens, a bag of dried meat, some crackers, a short coil of rope, a bottle of iodine, and four packs of heating gel. They had done well in the Cornucopia.

"No matches," Velt noted disappointedly. During training he had learned how to make a fire with flint, but he had never graduated to making it from scratch.

"That's okay," Belle said. "I know how to start one with sticks. I need some dry grassy stuff though. If I remember right, Cable used to tell me that you can usually find dead grass on the ground under snow, although its usually wet. Hmmm. I don't know if there will be any here. It's so cold, maybe there is just never any plants."

As she talked, Belle began to kick some snow away from the earth, uncovering some sparse browned grass underneath the layer of white. She smiled triumphantly, subconsciously thanking Cable for all the training he had given her. He had always been such a stickler about survival skills, and she had always thought he was crazy for it. Surly learning how to use a flashy weapon would have been more useful. She could see his wisdom now though. Learning how to use a bow would have done nothing for her, as the boy from Four already seemed to have claim on the weapon. She'd never have been able to get it. These few survival tips though, they were priceless.

Velt watched Belle work silently as he curled up, hugging his knees to his chest for warmth. He had been so lucky that she'd wanted him for an ally. Within fifteen minutes a couple embers had caught on the dry grass, and Belle began to build up the fire. Velt jumped to his feet and helped her gather wood, following her demands when she needed something. Before long they were both feeling significantly warmer as the fire crackled to life.

"Now if only we had some food," Belle mumbled to herself.

"It's not so bad. I feel pretty full from breakfast still. We shouldn't break into the food supply until later," he said quietly. He knew what hunger felt like, and the minuscule rumble of his belly that he was experiencing at the moment was nothing compared to starvation.

"Maybe I'll set some traps later around this area. We can call this clearing base," Belle nodded in agreement.

Velt smiled as he leaned back onto his hands. "We're not doing so bad huh?" he said.

Belle grinned back. "No I guess not," she agreed.

* * *

Layton Cross (D5), Raven Textan (D8), Colleen Reyna (D8), and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

The group of four tributes trotted along easily through the woods as they chomped on a handful of blue tasteless berries. Their hands were numb and red in the wind and every now and then they'd have to pause, putting their collection of berries on the ground, so that they could all put their hands into their pockets, regaining feeling before continuing on with their food.

After Raven and Roland had run out of the Cornucopia with the large length of rope, the four had frantically met up a few yards within the tree line, and began scurrying away from the brawl. About a half an hour into their trek they had come across a convenient cut out trail that had a few frigid looking winter shrubs along the sides of it. Layton had been the one who had seen the berries first, and without even thinking he had cried out in joy shoving a fist full into his mouth.

Raven was furious of course, yelling at the boy and worriedly demanding if he knew whether it was poisonous or not. He just shrugged, giving Raven a sidelong crooked grin. After that they waited, walking along the trail as they each watched their ally with worry. By the time noon had come around, it was clear to them all that whatever they were, the berries were safe.

Now they were even further along the trail, well away from the danger of the career pack, and the four of them began to relax.

"So, seven deaths in the bloodbath. That's a lot more than last year. I think they only got four. My brother had said last year's career pack was really weak; although I don't see hvalue can say that 'cause hue boy from One won. I wonder who they got though," Layton babbled. "I bet that kid from Three died. He didn't do so great in training or in the interview."

"Either the boy from One died or the boy from Eleven. Eros tackled Eleven right when it started I saw it," Roland said quietly, shoving the heavy coil of rope further up his shoulder. He had taken the sole responsibility of carrying it, and wouldn't let it out of his sight since the Bloodbath had ended. To Roland, that rope was a piece of his home. It was his lifeline in a sense, even more so than his lucky bolo tie that he was currently wearing as a token.

"Oatis probably lost," Raven mumbled sullenly. He had been kind of on edge since the Games had started, though none of his teammates could pinpoint exactly why. Everything had gone according to plan, and then some. Their entire alliance was still intact, and for now, they were safe. What more could he want?

What they didn't know, was that Raven was thinking on a much larger scale. Looking over his four-man alliance, he couldn't help but feel like he hadn't done enough. When he had decided to make an alliance, he had imagined something much larger with maybe six, seven, or even eight tributes. His father had always told him that he had a tendency to set unattainable goals. Still, thinking over training, he couldn't help but remember several faces who he hadn't talked to. He never spoke a word to either tributes from Three, Six, Seven, Nine, or Twelve. There was more he could have done.

"I don't know, maybe the boy from One caught a sudden case of the stickies. That's a disease that comes on suddenly. You could be running one minute, and the next you won't be able to move! It's really tragic actually. But if One got it while he was fighting, Oatis might have won," Layton said.

Raven and Lena both smiled at that.

"Maybe it was all seven in the career alliance that died," Lena offered quietly.

"That's it! All of them must have gotten the stickies. Oatis will probably go down in history as the most awesome tribute ever to live," Layton cried with a grin. The three of them laughed while Roland grinned along with them as he fiddled with the end of his rope. The laughter died down eventually, a content silence taking its place.

After a few minutes passed, Roland suddenly felt the need to speak up. "So," he said amiably. "I was thinking we should make a plan for the day, like a schedule..."

* * *

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), Chateaux Masona (D2), Foster Finner (D4), Kyla Brooke (D4), Roan Ardennes (D10)

* * *

The group of seven walked backed to the Cornucopia after an unsuccessful morning of hunting to find that all of the bodies had been removed. The only trace of the deceased tributes' presence in the arena was the few smeared traces of their blood that had stained the previously pearly white snow canvas. The large group was getting rowdy after the two hours they had spent trekking through snow for no benefit.

Emerging out of the forest, Foster was the first one to fall backwards into the snow with a big tired huff. "That was so pointless," he cried exhausted.

"Well if we had split up when I told us too," Kegan muttered to himself as he carefully sat down on a crate.

"Shut up," Chateaux glared at her District partner.

Foster snickered. "You two fight like an old married couple," he grinned at them. The two tributes from Two both sent Foster very serious death glares.

"Autumn get me an apple or something will you. I'm hungry," Eros said as he sat down.

"And you can't get your own apple?" Autumn inquired with a semi-amused raise of an eyebrow.

"I probably could, but these good looks don't just create themselves. You know that my contribution as the most attractive male of the group is much more important than my contribution to the entire food thing," he drawled with a wink. Autumn rolled her eyes, ready to argue. She wasn't one to make friction with the group, but this kind of banter was light and friendly. In fact, it was probably healthy for the seven of them to joke around. Plus, she couldn't help but think of Sterling back at home, who was most certainly the jealous type, fuming over their light talk. She couldn't help but laugh a little, imagining his face as he watched her.

"I'll make some lunch if you guys can start a fire," Roan offered, trying to be helpful. "I used to cook every night for my dad back at home."

"That sounds great," Foster said cheerily.

Roan got to work, putting together a semi-decent looking meal with the supplies that were scattered around the Cornucopia, as the rest of her alliance (meaning mostly Kyla, Autumn, and Kegan) started a fire with some matches. To her delight, she found an entire rack of ribs lying on the frozen ground. It was genius really. It was so horribly cold outside that the raw meat would stay good as long as it was kept on the ground.

With the hand of an expert, Roan began to dismember the ribs with her cleaver, making cuts that only an experienced butcher would know about. When she finished the cutting, she walked over and began cooking.

Kyla watched the girl cook with interest. She had calmed down a lot since the Bloodbath. She didn't feel the overwhelming panicky grief anymore. Now that the bodies were gone, she could look at her allies as people again, dismissing the seven acts of murder that happened earlier as a mere dream.

"We might as well be in the Capitol," Foster grinned as he sunk his teeth into lunch.

Eros nodded in agreement. "I told you all that she was a good pick. And you didn't believe me," he crowed.

"Because this was all your idea," Kegan muttered, rolling his eyes. His usual bitterness wasn't quite as biting though. The hardy meal seemed to be lightening even his mood.

"Hey, I was thinking," Autumn muttered as she ate. "Foster you said that you injured somebody?"

"The girl from Nine," Foster nodded.

"We never checked to see if she left a blood trail," Autumn said.

Without even finishing his food, Eros leapt to his feet, jogging over to the mountain side of the Cornucopia clearing. Foster and Chateaux followed him. "Grab your weapons," Eros grinned almost sadistically. "We've got some half-dead prey to go finish off."

* * *

Skye Ager (D9)

* * *

Skye dragged her body up the steep slope with one last strong heave before completely collapsing into the snow. She didn't know how long had passed since the bloodbath, how far she had managed to run, or even how many cannon booms had sounded earlier. Everything was a blur of dizziness and pain. Looking down at her wounded calf, she winced. The arrow was still sticking out of it, and she could see the bloodied muscle beneath the broken skin. She knew already that it was getting infected.

For a minute, Skye considered giving up. She never came here with the intent of living to see the end of it, and although her resolve to die had faltered slightly when her mother told her that she still loved her, things hadn't changed that much. If she put her cheek down onto the ice, she would probably be able to fall asleep almost instantly, and if that happened there was no question in her mind that she would never wake up. Whether it was the cold or the blood loss, something would kill her.

Skye looked up at the mountain, spotting a black rocky cave a couple yards ahead of her. If she could just make it up there, maybe she would be able to get out of the frigid air. Using what little of her strength she had left, Skye began clawing up the hill. Her fingers ached with painful numbness as she scraped at the frozen snow. Her foot felt like dead weight now. She made it though. She inched further and further until suddenly she was sitting in the mouth of the cave. Stumbling inside, she collapsed again. The ground was unusually warm inside, as this little nook seemed to be sheltered from the winter.

Backing up, Skye leaned against the wall and closed her eyes as she shoved her fingers into her pockets, letting them feel warmth again. It must have taken fifteen minutes before she could move them painlessly.

Unfortunately, the momentary warmth of the cave did more than just freeze her hands. Looking down at the horrible piercing wound in her calf, she realized that the snow had been numbing it too. What she thought had been agony before was nothing compared to the torturous burning sensation that spread through her leg. Skye whimpered as she tentatively reached down, touching the wound. The pain was suddenly so intense that she could feel her vision blurring. She needed to do something about it immediately.

Of course, she knew nothing about medicine. That would have been too simple.

Biting her lip, Skye reached down and gripped the arrow, ignoring the agony that shot though her when she touched it. There was no way her wound could heal with the arrow still lodged in her calf. With one impulsive yank, she tore the arrow free from her leg.

There was no containing the horrible scream that ripped through her as the arrow tore its way out, making the injury worse. If there was any tribute in the proximity, they must have heard her.

Dizziness gripped the girl as she felt the hot tears roll down her cheeks. She didn't know when had lied down, but she could feel the dirt underneath her cheek. Above her the world spun on an axis as several faces flashed before her eyes. She saw her sister, Dale, looking beautiful in the dainty yellow dress she had worn to the interviews the previous year. She saw her mother, sobbing uncontrollably as they watched her die. Demetrius's gleeful laughter rung in her ears.

Was this what dying felt like?

Suddenly she heard noises outside her cave. Pulling herself upright again, new voices echoed in her ears.

"We found her," a deep menacing voice was singing.

"Cool, I should get her because I hurt her in the first place," somebody else replied.

"No, you've already got two kills, let somebody else have a chance," a third voice said.

"I'll do it, you owe me a kill anyway," somebody responded.

"I don't owe you anything. You lost that kill yourself. Hey, Roan why don't you do it. You haven't gotten a fair chance at anybody yet," a new high pitched voice sounded.

"Um, alright," came the response. Whoever it was that spoke last sounded nervous, and for a moment Skye felt bad for them.

In her vision, a red headed figure blurred in front of her, holding out some kind of knife. Skye whimpered in fear as somebody laughed. In one suddenly stroke of instinct, Skye felt something hard in her hand- the dagger that she had grabbed from the Cornucopia- and she plunged it forwards, hoping the person would just go away.

The figure wasn't expecting her to attack, probably because she was obviously not well. Skye hit her target, feeling her dagger sinking into something that was both soft and hard. She twisted it as she mournfully whispered Dale's name like a mad woman. The figure let out a cry of pain and her weapon cleaved downwards, digging into Skye's neck and making it's way to her heart.

Suddenly Dale's face appeared in front of her, shrouded in some sort of light. She reached out towards her sister, feeling pure joy sing through her limbs.

Somewhere in the distance, a cannon boomed.

* * *

**A/N: R.I.P. Skye. She is with her sister now. Hope everyone like the chapter.**


	27. Losing It Early

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), Chateaux Masona (D2), Foster Finner (D4), Kyla Brooke (D4), Roan Ardennes (D10)

* * *

There was no easy way to tell what time it was. One of the few survival skills that careers were taught was how to discern the time using the sun. It seemed though that the skill would be useless in the arena. A hoard of dull grey clouds covered the sky, covering up the sun, moon, stars, and anything else that might be lurking up there. It was Autumn's intuition that told her it was around sunset. The snow wasn't as bright as it had been when they first rose on their platforms into the Cornucopia, and new shadows had formed at the edge of the forest. Night would be coming soon.

Autumn sighed, leaning back into the snow. She had volunteered to play guard while the others went to go kill the girl from Nine. She knew that all of the others would be adamant about their participation in the hunt. Everyone except for Kyla that is, but for some reason, Autumn didn't trust the girl from Four to guard their supplies. She was too sympathetic to the other tributes. Autumn could see it in her eyes right after the bloodbath, when they were scanning the dead bodies.

Glancing at the sky again, she wondered what was taking the others so long. The canon had sounded a little while back, so they were obviously already done with their mission. Autumn highly doubted they ran into too much trouble. The girl was injured for Pete's sake. Anyway, there had only been one boom of the cannon. Obviously the others were all still alive. Unless of course, the cannon wasn't for the girl from Nine, but instead for somebody else.

She shook her head. She must have been over thinking things.

The air was getting colder as the arena gradually grew darker. Autumn could feel the frosty temperature penetrating through her jacket, and she grabbed one of the sleeping bags, drawing it around herself for warmth. She wouldn't be surprised if some of the other tributes actually died over the upcoming night, freezing to death. She was fortunate to be in the career back. It made things simpler.

Suddenly, a sound broke through the silence of the twilight. Immediately Autumn was on her feet, twin swords in hand, as she looked for the intruder. Her eyes scanned the forest, finding no sign of life, before turning to the mountains. She dropped her swords.

Six figures were slowly trudging down the hill that led up to the mountain. At first, Autumn put on a smile, ready to welcome back the company. Then she realized something was wrong. They were moving too slow. Two of the figures were carrying a third. The dotted trail of blood that the girl from Nine had left was thicker leading up the mountain as they made left new fresh scarlet stains in the snow.

Autumn grabbed a first aid kit that they had set aside earlier and sprinted up to them. When she got closer, she could make out the individual faces. All of them were grave.

Kegan's muscles ached from hauling Roan all the way down the mountain. It had been clear to him about a quarter of the way down that she was a goner. She had already lost too much blood. It was appalling that she hadn't actually died yet. If he had it his way, they would have abandoned the girl up by the tribute they had just killed. Of course, Chatueax and all of the others ignored his opinion once again. Roan had won her spot in the alliance, and now they were going to go out of their way try to salvage what was left of the girl.

Of course, Roan's fighting contribution had nothing to do with why they all wanted to save her.. Really all of this ridiculous extra effort was a result of his surviving allies' stupidity. Foster had grown emotionally attached to the girl, and was unwilling to leave her in the cave to die alone. Kyla was too soft to ignore the wounded girl's dying cries of help. Eros was being driven by his stomach as he hoped that the girl would live a little longer, thus cooking a few more hearty meals for the group. Then lastly there was Chateaux, who only argued for bringing Roan back to the Cornucopia because Kegan was arguing against it, despite the fact that she secretly agreed with him.

The entire lot of them were fools.

Roan moaned again as Kegan accidentally jostled her as they came to a spot, putting her down in the snow. The simple knife wound in her stomach was bleeding profusely, and the entire front of her jacket was soaked through in the scarlet liquid. A steady stream of drops ran down her side, falling delicately into the snow where it was soaked up like water on paper. Autumn and Foster both worked in unison as they attempted to plug up the wound. They put snow onto it, hoping that it would help, as they pulled out medicine drops and coated her wound in it. The entire time the girl moaned and cried. Some of her vibrant red hair had become stringy as her tears of pain froze the strands together in the frigid air. It was an awful way to die.

"It's no use," Autumn said frustratedly. "The bleeding won't stop."

"Well keep trying," Eros replied annoyed. Roan looked at the hulking tribute from One in shock. Despite the agonizing pain that she was in, the efforts that her allies were going through to save her truly touched her heart. She had assumed so many things about each of them when she agreed to join their group- the first and foremost assumption being that they all only cared about themsleves. But here she was, at the bottom of a huge mountain as the six of them all hovered over her, each doing their part in trying to save her life.

She knew that she was already dead though. She had given the Games her best shot, and now she was going to die on the first day because they hadn't been cautious enough on a simple hunting outing. It was like the universe was mocking her, but somehow, this close to the end, she didn't care.

"Kyla," she said hoarsely.

The girl from Four stepped forwards obediently, pain etched across her face. "Yeah?"

"Will you reach into my right pocket and pull out my flower?" the dying girl asked. "I want to see it one last time."

Kyla reached forwards, pulling a delicate wooden flower out of Roan's pocket. It was a small and beautiful thing that somehow seemed so unexpected from Roan- the self-professed tom-boy. "My daddy made this for me," Roan said, a soft smile on her face as she took the flower in her hand. Clutching the flower to her chest, the girl let out one last deep sigh.

_Boom_

Foster stared emptily at his friend's carcass. He would miss Roan. She wasn't half as stuck up as the rest of the careers. He liked having her around. The other careers all stood back, accepting the girl's death.

"Come on," Eros said roughly. He seemed to be suddenly in a very sour mood. "Let's go eat some of that awful jerky."

* * *

Luna Morristeen (D5)

* * *

Luna jumped when the cannon sounded again. That was the ninth time in that day. It certainly seemed like the careers had been busy. She sighed as she returned to her shivering. Both of her arms were inside of her jacket as she hugged herself, trying to fend off the cold. She hadn't grabbed anything from the Cornucopia, and therefore had been left without food, gloves, weapons, or anything really. The one thing that she did have was water, as she had been eating snow all day. She knew that was bad though. There was no way to tell if the snow was clean or not. In an ideal world she would boil it down in a pot, letting it bubble for a while, then drink it. Unfortunately, she didn't have a pot or any means to make a fire, so that was out of the question.

She had walked around aimlessly all day, familiarizing herself with the landscape. It appeared that the arena was more than just a forest on one side and a mountain on the other. Really, it was more like a mountain with a forest surrounding it. The Cornucopia just happened to be placed where the forest began to thin into the steeper mountain terrain. The forest was divided in half as well. On one side, all kinds of shrubbery sprouted from the ground. Of course, Luna had only recognized one variety of white winter lavender that just so happened to be poisonous.

Then on the other side, the shrubs disappeared. There, the only plant that could be found was the tall looming trees- half of which were evergreens and another half that were some other kind. Instead of plants, she had found that loads of animals could be found over there. Little white rabbits darted across the snow, running into burrows they made for themselves. Snowy owls perched sleeping on tree limbs. Sneaky silver foxes lurked in the shadows. She had even come across a trail of huge monstrous foot prints that were twenty times as large as Luna's own dainty feet. Luna didn't want to learn what kind of animal or mutt it belonged to.

When the sky had began to darken, she rounded back over to the plant side as she wanted to avoid some of the natural predators. She had finally settled underneath a tree that was near the edge of the forest and the mountain, about a mile away from the Cornucopia. She would continue moving in the morning.

Suddenly, the anthem began to blare in the sky. Pulling herself to her feet, Luna looked up to see who had passed away that day. The first face to show up was the boy from Three, Leighton. His death didn't surprised her as she had watched him bolt towards the Cornucopia earlier. She had been shocked that he had planned to risk the bloodbath. He seemed fully aware that he was a horrible fighter, so she assumed he would have broken for the forest immediately. Obviously she had been wrong.

Next came the boy from Six, meaning all of the six One, Two, and Four were alive. Luna's heart fell at the thought. The career tributes scared her. Her best hope at winning would be if they all died by somebody else's hand. She wouldn't be able to fight off any of them if she tried. As a second thought, Luna realized that it meant Layton was still alive. She was happy for him. If she was going to die, then hopefully it would be before he did. That way she could go to the grave with the hope that District Five might still have a winner.

The girl from Seven came next. Luna shivered as she remembered Terra attacking her District partner in training. It was probably better that she was dead. Skye's face followed as did Roan's. Luna felt a flutter of hope knowing that the girl from Ten was gone. She was part of the career pack too. Clearly they weren't invincible.

All of the tributes from Eleven and Twelve were dead as well. They were down to fifteen tributes then. Almost half of the lively faces that she had seen all dressed up at the interviews just the night before were now gone from the world. She couldn't believe it was that many. The brief week she had spent in the Capitol seemed years away as she stood knee deep in the snow. Finally the anthem finished blaring, and the Capitol seal faded.

Cold silence filled the air. With a wistful sigh, Luna sank back down into the snow, burrowing under it so that the wet flakes worked like a blanket. It was cold, but at least now she wasn't as noticeable in her black outfit. Her eyes fluttered closed as she began her meager attempt to get some shut-eye.

* * *

Lindon Lizar (D7)

* * *

Lindon stalked through the barren landscape feeling surly. Everything that passed before his eyes infuriated him. It was like the arena was a living breathing reminder of all those who had wronged him. The scattered poplar trees made him thought of Ava, his traitor girl friend who never came to say good-bye to him. They had their first date under a poplar tree. The snow reminded him of some of his so called friends who didn't volunteer for him. They had snow ball fights last winter. The squirrels that scurried across the ground made him think of some of the local shop vendors, none of whom seemed to be supporting him as he hadn't yet received any sponsor gifts.

The worst thing though, was when he saw Terra's face in the sky. The sight of her face sent him into a boiling fit of rage. He wished that he hadn't killed her so quickly. He should have dragged it out more, made sure that he squeezed every last ounce of sweet agony out of her broken body until she couldn't scream anymore. Instead he had just choked her. It wasn't nearly satisfying enough.

Lindon had no intention of resting any time soon. He would never be able to calm down enough even if he tried. As stopping wasn't an option, Lindon decided that he just wouldn't stop moving. He moved through the woods at an alarming rate. Of all the tributes, he had covered the most ground that day; although, the trail he made meandered so much that it hardly mattered.

There was a reason for the windy trail he took. He didn't even know it himself, but he was hunting. Lindon's hands ached to clench around another tribute's throat, to feel it as their life was sapped out of them. He had no control in the arena. Everything was subject to the whims of the god-like gamemakers, but when he had killed Terra earlier, oh, he had been the one in control. He yearned for that feeling again. Even if it meant taking on all six of the remaining careers, he would have it. Lindon's life revolved around control. His time in the arena would be spent in no other way.

As he walked though, he drew the eyes of others. Living beasts that lurked in the snowy surroundings watched with erie yellow eyes as the boy trespassed on their territory. Lindon was well aware of their presence, but he didn't care. He taunted them, daring the creatures to attack him. He could feel it in his gut that he would not perish from some feral animal in these Games.

Finally, he came across a small clearing, pausing as he looked around to survey the new area. There were no tributes here, to his disappointment; however, there seemed to be some kind of hole in the middle of the clearing. Walking up to it, Lindon cautiously peered down. The sleeping forms of two white catlike creatures breathed heavily in the nook, their pelts rising and falling evenly. Lindon grinned as his stomach rumbled.

He knew what they were- in District Seven they were called Fanged Felines. They were best known for their two retractable canine teeth from which their name was derived. When bitten it released a curious venom into its victim that targeted their greatest emotional weakness. For some that meant they relived their most sorrowful moment and ended up sobbing on the ground as the Feline proceeded to slaughter them. For others it meant that they were overcome by some sort of overwhelming guilt for some past wrong doing. He had even heard a rumor once about a gamemaker that got bit by accident that ended up murdering half his co-workers in a blind fit of endless rage after he had been bitten. It was all about what emotion the target was most susceptible to.

Lindon had never seen white ones before, and he didn't know they could survive in such cold temperatures. They were mutts though. He supposed that all they had to do was edit a gene here or a gene there, and then they could be adapted for any arena.

He hesitated for a minute. He wasn't sure what he was doing peering down that hole. Admittedly, his first thought had been to attack the mutts. He hadn't had enough action that day, and he craved more. These mutts could give him that, and possibly more. Maybe they could even be his dinner. The sensible human inside of him told him to stop though. Angering a mutt wasn't a smart move in the Games.

He didn't really care though. Lindon felt angry and wronged by Terra, and now these two sleeping mutts were going to feel his wrath. With two bold hands, Lindon reached down enclosing each of his hands around the two mutt's throats.

The smaller of the two that Lindon gripped in his right dominant hand awoke first. It's beady eyes slit open and immediately it sprang forwards, its grotesquely long fangs shooting out of it's mouth, extending all the way to it's feet. Lindon already had a grip on that one though. It was too small and unprepared to escape his wrath. Lindon squeezed the thing's throat with all his might, watching as its eyes bulged in its head. The feeling of satisfaction that swept over him when it went limp in his grasp was bordering on psychotic.

That was when the second mutt came to life. It was bigger than the first, and as Lindon's attention was drawn to its partner, the Feline sprang into action. With a hideous yowl, it twisted out of his grasp, landing neatly on its feet. Immediately it was upon him. Its fangs shot out as it leaped towards Lindon, who just had time to raise his arm to defend himself before it sunk its teeth into Lindon's flesh. As he fell backwards, the glasses Lindon usually wore to give himself that innocent air tumbled off his face and became lost in the snow.

For a moment, the two stared at each other entranced. The Feline's beady eyes stared boldly into Lindon's as it extended its fangs deeper and deeper into his arm, waiting for Lindon to react. Soon they were sticking out the other end. Lindon's pupil's dilated suddenly, then retracted again as the mutt's saliva seeped into his bloodstream. His mouth dropped open into a vacant "O" shape.

Then the venom reached his brain. Suddenly, Lindon's surly irritation transformed. His nostrils flared as the anger consumed him. Terra's image disintegrated in his mind, and a vague infuriating redness replaced it. He felt livid. There was no source to the indescribable fuming rage. It came from within, and thumped like a monster in his veins. The emotion wrapped its ugly claws around his heart, around his mind, and in that second, it owned him.

With a furious howl, Lindon grabbed the animal by the top of the head, yanking its fangs right out of his arm. Then grabbing it by the tail, he began to swing. The poor mutt never stood a chance. As if he was swinging a bat, Lindon raised the animal and thwaked it forwards, cracking it against a tree like a whip. Deep red blood splattered against the surrounding snow, staining the bark of the tree, and dotting Lindon's face. In the one swing, the animal was dead, but Lindon wasn't done. He swung the carcass against the tree again, then again. He beat the limp body silly until all of the entrails leaked onto the ground and the carcass wasn't even a discernible animal anymore. Then he beat some more. His screams of rage could be heard from miles away as he hollered bloody murder.

Back at home in District Seven, those who knew him solemnly bowed their heads. It appeared Lindon was finally meeting his undoing, and that night wouldn't be the end of it. Lindon's true reign of terror was yet to come.

* * *

Layton Cross (D5), Lena Reyna (D8)

* * *

Lena sat in the cold snow trying not to shiver. It was probably around mid-night, and the clouds had began to thin. The night sky peaked out at the her, revealing a silent crescent moon that was surrounded by an ocean of distant stars. Really it was beautiful, but she had a hard time appreciating it.

The four of them had stopped a few hours earlier to break for the night. They were all exhausted from the long day of hiking, and needed the rest. Picking a slightly concealed spot that was wedged between two evergreen trees, Roland and Raven had dug a hole into the snow to offer additional coverage, and they settled down for the night. Lena offered to take the first guard duty.

She had been too restless to fall asleep so soon. The entire day seemed so surreal to her that she just needed the time to think. Raven, of course, let her take watch without any argument. He had been nothing but nice to her since they had stepped onto the train. She knew it was because he wanted her to win. Sometimes, he almost gave the impression that he was rooting more for her than even himself, but it was always hard to tell with Raven. He could make anybody feel like the most important person in the world just by glancing at them.

A huge gust of wind swept through the forest, moving through her jacket and chilling her bones. She nestled herself further into the crater of snow they had created, and scooted closer to where the boys were laying, hoping to get some of their warmth.

"Lena?" a quiet whisper asked subtly.

She looked up, seeing that Layton was lying on his back, his eyes wide open as he stared at the sky. "Your still up," Lena observed tiredly.

"Can't sleep," Layton replied, sitting up and scooting over beside her. He hugged his knees to his chest, tilting his head slightly as he watched her. "I'm joining you," he informed her.

Lena smiled. When she had first seen Layton, he had reminded her so much of Calico. Under the sheen of the Capitol lights, his appearance had been strikingly similar to her best friend, and he had that same quirky air of a non-conformist about him. Over the past week though, she had learned that really there was no comparing Layton to anyone. Up close, he didn't look as much like Calico as she had thought. His hair actually wasn't quite the same shade of brown, instead it was a curly dirty blonde. His chin was more pointed, and he was slightly leaner. As far as his personality went, Layton was much more direct with the world. It was like with the berries earlier that day. He was hungry; he saw food; and so he ate them. Calico on the other hand, always had a soft way to him. Even though he carried himself like Layton in public, he was a much more quiet and thoughtful person once you took the time to know him. Lena had spent hours painting beside Calico, and the two had never spoken a word to each other. They had simply enjoyed each other's company in silence. With Layton, it was hard to imagine a world where he wasn't talking.

"I guess we were wrong about the careers earlier huh?" Lena mumbled, thinking of all of their optimism.

"No. We just haven't been proven right yet. That's different than being wrong," Layton said adamantly. "They could still all get the stickies and die any minute. If you ever hear six booms in a row, be suspicious."

Lena smiled. That was another difference between Calico and Layton. The boy from District Five would never admit when he was wrong. Her thoughts wandered back home, imagining her best friend's reaction to her alliance. He was probably ecstatic that she had found such a solid alliance. Calico would never admit it, but he secretly admired Raven and all of the popular crowd back at home. He spent a lot of his time bashing them and striving to set himself apart, but deep down, he respected them. Lena wondered what would happen to the two of them if she were to come home. Would he still feel the same way about her as he did before? Would they start dating? She didn't know.

"You're blushing," Layton noted as he rested his head on the snow. "That's kind of weird isn't it? I mean, I haven't even said anything yet."

Lena smiled. "I was just thinking about home," she muttered.

"Do you have a boyfriend there? Is that why your blushing?" Layton asked curiously. That made Lena turn an even darker shade of red. Of course, Layton didn't even realize that being so direct wasn't usually socially acceptable. He simply had a thought, so he voiced it.

"Um, maybe. I don't know," Lena stuttered out.

"You don't know? That's odd. I think I'd know if I had a girlfriend. I mean, usually people don't keep that a secret from each other. It'd be like if I secretly thought I was married to you, but never told you. It doesn't really work that way," Layton said.

"Er, I had a friend back at home that I was really close with. He said some things at the goodbyes, but we only had three minutes. It wasn't enough time," Lena tried to explain without going into too much detail.

"So he kissed you?" Layton inquired. Lena turned beet red again, so he took that as a yes. "That counts I guess. I'd call him your boyfriend," he decided.

Lena gaped at him, thinking about how strange a conversation this was. "Thanks," she replied after a while.

"For what? I didn't do anything," he asked confused.

"For clearing that up for me," Lena whispered back. She closed her eyes, imagining Calico in her mind. _Boyfriend_. She tried the word out. Yes, it did seem fitting.

Suddenly, something wet splattered across her face, and her eyes whipped open. Immediately she looked to Layton. The scream that ripped out of her throat was involuntary. Sticking out of the boy's chest was a sharp curved blade that had dark scarlet liquid dripping horrifically from the tip.

The sound of a cannon ripped through the air: _Boom._

* * *

Totem Earhart (D7)

* * *

Totem walked through the snow, her eyes drooping. The one bad thing about having so much stuff was that it meant she had a lot to carry. After walking wading through the snow all day, the few supplies she had grabbed started to feel a lot heavier than they actually were. She would probably have to sit down and rest pretty soon. Maybe she'd even settle down for a couple of hours and get some sleep in.

That's what most of the other tributes were doing.

Totem didn't want to rest though. Up until the anthem that night, the careers had thought she was dead. Now that they knew better though, they were probably checking over their supplies, realizing that some of it was missing, most noticeably the sickle. She couldn't get the feeling off of her back that they were going to go looking for her now. People usually didn't trick the careers that easily, and although she didn't know the six of them that well, she knew that Eros would probably be infuriated when he found out she'd doped him. Thus she kept walking, covering up her tracks as she went.

The cover of the night made her feel a little better. The black snow outfit didn't stick out so much in the dark.

Totem walked a little farther keeping her eyes on the ground so that she could watch her step. Suddenly, she stopped. The ground looked funny here. The snow was slightly matted, like it had been disturbed. Looking around, she realized that the disturbance traveled in a convenient straight line. There were no footprints that she could see, but thinking back to training, this pattern in the snow did seem familiar. Somebody, or multiple some bodies, had been traveling this way earlier.

Totem glanced in both directions, looking for more signs of life. To her left, the odd disturbed snow stopped, but to her right, it traveled on for a good while. She decided to follow it in that direction.

After fifteen minutes more of trekking, the sound of voices traveled to her ears.

"Can't sleep," somebody, a boy, was saying. Totem inched closer until she had a good angle to see the speakers. She could just make out four other tributes in the dark. They were in some kind of crater they must have dug out of the snow between two pine trees. Two of them seemed to be awake, while the other two were sleeping. Biting her lip, Totem realized that this was the infamous Raven alliance. She had been watching them earlier during training. At one point, she even considered asking to join their alliance. She had just never gotten around to the whole asking business.

She could feel her heart beating loudly in her chest as one of the tributes on watch turned slightly to face their companion. Now she could make out his face, and to her surprise it wasn't Raven or the bulky guy from Ten, no it was the scrawny boy from Five. The other speaker was a girl. That meant that both Ten and Raven were sleeping. She was in luck. Totem looked around, carefully picking a tall tree, and shimmying up the trunk. She swung her bag of supplies off her shoulder, and hung it on one of the branches.

She wanted to be as light as possible when she made her get away.

With her sickle in hand, Totem slowly made her way over toward the other tributes' camp. What she really wanted to do now was get rid of Raven. He was by far the biggest threat there with the whopping eleven he scored in training. Unfortunately there wasn't an easy angle to kill him then make a run for it. The two tributes on watch would see her before she managed to actually kill anybody. The same went for the boy from Ten. That left the two on watch as her only potential victims.

Totem moved onto her stomach, crawling quietly as she moved closer to the two. They were doing a poor job of keeping lookout as they hadn't even turned their head around once to check behind them. Soon she could hear their conversation clearly.

"For what? I didn't do anything," the boy was asking.

"For clearing that up for me," the girl replied.

They fell silent for a moment, and Totem knew this was her opportunity. She took her sickle in her hand and swung hard, impaling the boy right through the chest. The girl let out a loud high pitched scream as blood started to spill out of the boy's wound. Totem quickly yanked her weapon out of him as the cannon sounded.

The two who were sleeping groggily woke up, both wearing confused expressions. The blonde one, Raven, seemed to notice his dead ally first, as his eyes snapped into full alertness. He looked around wildly, his eyes quickly meeting Totem.

She ran for her life, sprinting through the trees. When she came to the tree her stuff was in, she leaped upwards, her hands clasping around the branch that the pack was resting on, and shaking it lose. Swinging it over her shoulder, she kept moving. For a few moments, she could hear the sound of someone pursuing her, though she didn't look back. But she was fast. Years of pulling pranks and stealing hovercrafts had given her ample running experience.

Soon enough the sound of trailing feet faded. They had given up pursuit. Still Totem kept running, only stopping when the scenery around her began to shift, and the scattered shrubbery on the ground slowly shrank until the ground was covered by nothing but snow.

Breathing heavily, Totem slowed, collapsing into the snow. "Come at me," Totem muttered under her breath as she stared backwards a the way she'd came. Nobody was there though. She was safe.

* * *

**A/N R.I.P. Roan and Layton. I enjoyed writing both of you. Now we're down to fourteen at the end of Day 1. But yeah, I had fun with this chapter. Is Lindon freaking you guys out yet? *insert evil laugh here*. I tried to keep that scene as toned down as possible. It was a bit more... gory when I wrote it through the first time. ****  
**


	28. The Loss of Innocence

**A/N To avoid confusion, I'm just letting you know now that the timeline jumps back a bit here. The first section happens before Layton's death, then the rest of the sections occur the following morning and onward. The last chapter was getting long, and the careers already had a section so I decided to just push this bit with them off into this chapter. Happy reading. **

* * *

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), Chateaux Masona (D2), Foster Finner (D4), and Kyla Brooke (D4)

* * *

Since Roan's demise earlier that evening, the career camp had been notably sluggish. The six of them had spent the remainder of the evening walking around camp and organizing and reorganizing their supplies. There were a few talks about forming another hunting party, but really Eros was the only one who was anxious to go kill more tributes. For the rest of them, Roan's death had been an awakening of sorts. Suddenly it was acutely clear to all of them that within the next two weeks at least five of them would be dead.

Eventually the sky had darkened and eyes had began to droop. As Foster had loudly announced, they were all tired. The only reason they didn't call it a night was because of the impending anthem. Not that they didn't already know whose faces would appear in the sky that night. It simply wasn't worth drifting off when the noisy Capitol anthem would be waking them up in just a few minutes.

"They should hurry up and let they rest of the arena know who we killed already," Foster complained. "I want to go to sleep."

"We all do, stop complaining," Chateaux snapped irritably. Foster hadn't stopped talking since dinner had ended and he was starting to get on her nerves. "Go play that game you like with brainiac over there and be patient."

Kegan shot his District partner an annoyed look. "I have a name," he mumbled as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. His eyes flashed dangerously as he sunk down further into the snowy ground.

"I gave up," Foster informed Chateaux. "He knows everything, quizzing him is boring."

"I don't know everything," Kegan snapped as if it were an insult. "You simply have a very small imagination with your questions."

"Stop bickering," Eros grumbled as he nibbled on an apple. He missed Flame from back home, and longed for some normal company. Chateaux was the only other career that Eros considered up to his social stature, but she was a girl. Usually he never hung out with anyone of the opposite gender for more than one night. After that, they tended to start getting needy.

Chateaux opened her mouth to respond to him, but suddenly the anthem started playing, drowning out her voice. The expected faces started showing up as the boys from Three and Six flashed up onto the screen. The third face to flash before them was quite shocking. Instead of a picture of the mischievous girl from Six, the girl from Seven's face showed up next.

All eyes fell on Kyla as confusion rippled through the brisk air. When the anthem finished, the six of them sat completely still. Eros was the first to move. He leaped to his feet, his mouth twisted into a ferocious snarl. Grabbing her by the collar, Eros lifted Kyla off the ground, holding his face dangerously close to hers.

"Care to explain?" he asked quietly, holding her gaze. A knife stuck readily out of his pocket as he prepared to butcher the girl alive. Eros had no patience for liars.

Kyla's eyes flashed with fear. She had been just as shocked when Terra's face showed up instead of Totem's. They had all seen her body. When nobody had claimed her as their kill, Kyla had just assumed somebody from the outer Districts had killed her. Nobody was going to get hurt by her lie, least of all herself. If she had known, she would have had an explanation prepared, or at least she would have been holding a weapon.

"I don't know," Kyla squeaked terrified. She was not ready to die.

"Eros slow down," Autumn's steady voice called urgently from the other side of the fire.

"Why should I?" Eros asked simply, his lip curling slightly. "We can't afford to have any liars in the alliance. That's how you get yourself killed. Anyway, I haven't killed anybody since that big oaf from Eleven earlier."

"Because she's telling the truth. Look at her face. She doesn't know why that girl's still alive. She thought she was dead too," Autumn shot back. "We've already lost one today. We need numbers so we can go hunting in several groups tomorrow."

Eros's resolve didn't slack in the slightest. Instead, he moved his hand to his knife. Nobody was going to interfere if he decided to slit Kyla's throat. His allies valued their lives too much to do that, or did they? Autumn stepped forwards, boldly putting a hand on his arm: a warning.

"Let her tell her half of the story first," Autumn said. The two tributes from One stared at each other for a minute, their eyes locked in a dangerous stare off. Autumn was having deja vu from the train ride, when the two of them had started testing each other's limits. Her mother had warned her then that she needed Eros as an ally, not an enemy, and she had reiterated the sentiment later throughout the week. Still, she couldn't have him murdering everyone in their alliance. She would be with in her rights if she killed him now.

Eros buckled to Autumn first though. His predator eyes flashed back over to Kyla, and he dropped her on the ground. "Talk," he commanded gruffly.

Kyla looked around at her alliance frantically. She felt like she was trapped with five hostiles, and she needed somebody to calm her down a bit. Foster became that person for her. He sat down beside his District partner sympathetically, slapping his hand onto her shoulder with an encouraging smile. "Come on Kyla. Just tell him that it's all a misunderstanding," he said nervously. She smiled gratefully at him, feeling immensely relieved.

"Th- that's all it is," she stuttered out, avoiding Foster's gaze. "I thought I killed her." The lie exited her mouth before she had a chance to stop it. She knew that if Eros ever found out that she never even moved off her pedestal in the first place, he'd slaughter her brutally. Somehow though, her instincts told her that playing dumb was the safest course for her at the moment.

"What did you do exactly," Eros narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe her act for a second. She was a career after all. One of the first things they were taught was how to tell a dead enemy from a live one.

"I... I hit her in the temple with the end of my javelin. It should have killed her. At the very least she has a bad concussion right now," Kyla said, making an effort to sound cold and calculating. She had to get home to her family, and if a little acting is what it would take, she'd make the sacrifice willingly.

"You didn't stab her or anything for good measure?" Chateaux interjected, her voice sounding bored.

Kyla blushed. "I don't like to hurt them any more than necessary," she mumbled back.

Autumn smiled, feeling relieved. "See, she didn't lie or betray us. Obviously the girl from Six is just tough," she said to Eros.

The boy frowned for a moment as he watched Kyla. Then, as if the wind had suddenly changed directions, his mouth twisted into an unexpected cruel grin. "Alright then, fine. It was just a misunderstanding or whatever. But this does change things. You're the only one who doesn't have any kills- You've got dibs on the first tribute you see. Understand?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. Kyla felt her heart skip a beat.

"Sure whatever," she mumbled back.

A few moments of silence passed. "You know," Chateaux grinned slyly. "She's not the only one with no kills. Right Kegan?"

"Shut up," Kegan growled.

And with that, Foster started laughing, then Eros, then Autumn. Soon everyone except the embarrassed boy from Two filled the air with the sound of their musical laughter. For the moment, the tension had passed.

* * *

Belle Mechan (D3) and Velt Ganger (D9)

* * *

Belle's eyes fluttered open as a ray of sun passed over her face. The world around her had changed overnight. The clouds above had vanished and now the ground seemed to glow a picturesque pure white. She let out a quick shocked breath, watching in wonder as a crisp fog escaped from her mouth. Distracted by this new wonder, she let out another breath and the strange steam appeared again. She grinned, absolutely delighted.

To top things off, she didn't feel all that cold. At some point overnight, the fire had gone out, but it seemed that it didn't matter. Velt was wedged beside her, and the two had both burrowed down into the snow the way dogs did when it was cold outside. At the moment her head was resting on Velt's shoulder as the two had curled up into two intertwining balls. Some people might have scrambled away, embarrassed, but not Belle. She was warm pressed up against Velt, and she saw no need to venture out into the cold again.

"Velt," Belle whispered, poking him in the cheek. Velt gave out a slight moan as his pale face shook to life. He lifted his head, shaking off a layer of snowy dust out of his hair. Now Velt on the other hand, was not so bold as Belle. When he saw how close the two were underneath the snow, his face lit up bright red, and he practically leaped to his feet.

Belle laughed at him as his face twisted into a decided frown. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," Belle giggled. Velt blushed again.

"I'm not scared," Velt mumbled quietly as he brushed himself off. He could imagine his older brother, Nole, in his mind's eye, laughing in his good natured way at Velt's awkwardness.

"Mmmhmm," Belle smiled amused. "Come on, let's have breakfast."

The two sat down around their burnt out fire pit, picking through some of their supplies. They made an executive decision to each eat one cracker and each of them took a few swigs from the two water canteens. As they didn't have anything substantial to eat, Belle began to construct a snare while Velt began to build up the fire again. Belle talked him through each step, teaching him how to build a fire without the matches he so heavily relied on.

Soon the two were well set for the day. The fire was roaring warming them to the core as they each worked. Belle built at least seven traps by the time the sun reached noon in the sky. The two spent another half an hour setting them around their camp before returning to their fire, relatively tired.

Of course, the two were relatively young. Any weariness that they were experiencing was almost lost in their excited frames. Belle sat by the fire, warming up for a moment before saying. "Hey Velt, you want to play a game?" she asked excitedly.

Velt smiled. He rarely got to play around with the other kids back at home. He was too shy to go up and ask to join their fun. "Sure," he said, his voice quite eager.

"Tag, you're it," Belle cried giving him a light tap on the arm. She sprinted off into the woods, and Velt hurried after her, a huge grin stretching ear to ear.

* * *

Raven Textan (D8), Lena Reyna (D8), and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

The three walked up the slope, leaving the forest behind them. They were all silent, as nobody had much to say. Layton's death had hit all of them hard. They had all assumed they were safe, that all four of them had survived the first day. Nobody was ready when Totem had attacked. Lena wasn't paying enough attention to their surroundings, and the boys had been sleeping. When Raven and Roland woke up to find Layton bleeding from the chest, they had both sprung into action.

They bolted after Totem, with every intention of ending her. It was Raven who had called off the chase. Roland had been running full speed after the girl, forming a lasso with the rope as he ran (he had been sleeping with it strung around him), and just as he was ready to pull her down with it, Raven screamed at him to stop. The boy from Eight saw the sickle in Totem's hands, he knew that Lena was still back at the camp alone and vulnerable, and secretly, he doubted his allies ability to finish the job. Even if they had tripped her, somebody would have to finish the job afterwards. He knew Roland would hesitate, and to be honest, he hadn't been completely positive about himself. And against a girl like Totem, hesitation could mean death.

It was safer just to let her go.

After the action was over though, all that was left for them to do was grieve.

They returned to their little nook between the two trees, and Raven boldly decided that it would be safe to spend the rest of the night there. Now that the sun was well up they had to move on. Knowing that Totem was probably still lurking somewhere in the forest, they moved to go to the mountain.

They had been walking now for several hours. The trees had began thinning significantly, and nothing but craggy snow-capped boulders surrounded them. They were on the opposite side of mountain than the Cornucopia, and so no matter how hard they looked at the forest scenery below, there was no sign of the other tributes. Finally around lunch time, Raven stopped.

"I think we've earned a break," he announced.

"We didn't schedule for a break," Roland responded immediately, the vein popping out of his forehead slightly.

Raven smiled amiably. "No, but we scheduled for lunch time. Call this lunch, then we can just keep walking later," he replied. That put Roland at ease at once, which was quite impressive. At home usually Mathew was the only one who would be able to convince him to tweak the schedule that fast.

"Alright," he said, leaning back against a rock, his rope in hand.

"It would be nice if we actually had lunch," Lena sighed. The berries they had been feasting on didn't seem to grow so high up. It appeared that they were going to need to find another food source.

"I might be able to catch something with my rope if there was anything to catch," Roland mumbled thoughtfully looking around. The ground was smooth though. There was no sign of animal life in close proximity to them.

"It's just been one day right I guess," Lena said. "I think I've gone four days before without eating. It's not that bad, I guess."

Raven and Roland stared at her wide-eyed. She expected that much from Raven. His father had buckets of money in his back pocket. Raven probably didn't even know what reek hunger was. She was a little surprised that Roland had never starved for so long. District Ten was supposed to be even more dirt poor than Eight. Roland though, came from one of the few families that still owned their own farm, therefore he had never gone hungry.

Just as Roland was about to open his mouth to respond, a beeping noise echoed through the air, making all three of them jump. Spinning around, Raven grinned as he saw the little metal canister attached to a parachute floating down to them. He reached out, catching it in the air.

"Looks like we'll be eating after all," he said as he opened the top of the canister open. Inside was a thick steaming pot of soup that had chunks of vegetables and beef floating in it. Raven quickly grabbed the note that was hanging from it, unfolding the paper to read it out loud. "You're popular, don't screw it up," he smiled as he read. "It says it's from 'L' That must be Lea."

Roland grinned. "Gee, thanks to your mentor then," he said as the three of the sat down in the snow, all ready to eat.

Raven frowned though as he looked at the soup. "Hey Lea. You know soup is really nice, and we want to thank whoever sent it to us. Is there any way you could get us some gloves though," he asked as he sent a wistful glance at his hands. "We can't keep them out of our pockets for more than a few minutes at a time without worrying about frostbite."

"Don't be too pushy," Lena said, blushing slightly. She didn't like the idea of asking the Capitolites for too much. She came from a family where if you wanted something you had to work for it. It felt wrong to just ask for something and to have it magically appear out of the sky. Nevertheless, when the second parachute started floating down from the sky, she couldn't help but feel her heart leap with joy. This time, she was the one to reach out and grab the silver container from the air. Inside were three pairs of heavy black gloves with another note. "You're on your own for a little while now," she read aloud. This one was again signed from Lean, but she didn't mind. She figured anything sent to Raven was also equally meant for her.

She slipped two gloves onto her freezing hands, sighing as she flexed her fingers. Then she handed the remaining two sets of gloves to Roland and Raven. The two boys eagerly pulled on the gloves with smiles. Then Raven held up the soup sipping it out of the container, as they had no spoons.

"Lunch is served," he said, passing it onto Roland.

* * *

Lindon Lizar (D7)

* * *

Lindon woke up shivering, surrounded by stained red snow. Immediately, a strong scowl penetrated his features as he moaned. He must have wandered around aimlessly looking for something to brutally kill for hours last night. Then at some point, he had collapsed because he was beginning to feel light-headed. The two holes in his arm didn't bleed as much as he might have expected them to because of some odd property to their venom, but they still bled. Moving his arm now, he found that the entire limb ached. The fabric of his jacket had become stiff, and he could feel the cold air numbing the exposed skin around the two puncture wounds.

The venom that had momentarily turned Lindon into a lunatic had worn off, but for some reason, Lindon still felt some sort of change within himself. The longing to spill blood had begun before he had been bitten, and it hadn't gone away. The only difference between the boy who had beaten a mutt against the tree, and the boy currently scowling in the snow was that the present one had some level of wits about him, making him that much more dangerous.

Grumbling to himself, Lindon pulled himself to his feet, and began to walk away from the scarlet snow. He was vaguely aware of the hunger pangs he was experiencing in his stomach as he walked. Judging by the sky, it was a little past noon now. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast yesterday morning. It would be nice to have something to nibble on. The hunger was a secondary matter though. Finding a good fight was now paramount in his mind.

Walking through the trees, Lindon suddenly caught a strong whiff of smoke on the wind. Somebody had a fire brewing. He grinned sadistically as he swayed towards the smell. As he got closer, it got stronger, and through the trees, he could see a light grey cloud billowing upwards. Soon footprints appeared on the ground, scattering in all different directions. The prints were small, obviously a young light tribute had made them. Furthermore, there seemed to be two different treads of them. Lindon smiled at his luck. Two kills that meant.

Suddenly he heard a branch snap loudly to his left, and he whipped around, spreading both hands out, ready to clamp them around somebody's neck. Nobody was there though. He relaxed slightly, shooting an annoyed glance at the wounds in his arm as they stung, rejecting the sudden motion. Slowly, he lumbered towards the sound, trying to be stealthy.

A trap lay on the ground, a white rabbit skewered within its grasp. Lindon walked over to the trap curiously, fascinated by the blood that seeped out of the rabbit's torso. The trap was relatively simple- just a wooden structure with a sharpened stick on one end. The rabbit had walked into it, taking the bait of a small shred of dried jerky that was laying on the trigger. When it had touched it, the trap sprung, the sharpened stick cutting easily through the animal's flesh. Lindon reached down, picking up the piece of jerky off the ground. Some of the rabbit's blood had dropped onto the meat, but Lindon hardly cared. He popped it into his mouth without a second thought.

Then he debated on what to do with the rabbit. He could hardly hold it and murder two small tributes at the same time. Luckily though, it was small. He carefully removed the sharp stick out of its flesh, and shoved the dead thing into the deep pocket of his jacket, then zipped it in there, smearing blood all over himself as he did so. There, he thought. Now he could cook it in the soon-to-be-dead-tributes' fire once he had finished with him.

Finally he examined the stick that had killed the rabbit. It was about as short as a knife, and a tad blunter. Clearly it had been sharpened with some kind of tool, probably a dagger. Obviously, there were better weapons to be had, but Lindon didn't have many options. He could, of course, just strangle the two kids with his hands like he had done with Terra. That hadn't been so bad.

Still, something about the stick called to him. Idly he wondered how bad it would hurt, to be stabbed with a stick. Finally. he picked it up, figuring that just because he had it didn't mean he'd be forced to use it.

Lindon stood up, armed with the stick, and with the dead rabbit in his pocket, ready for action. He prowled forwards, moving closer and closer to the fire. just as he was about to reach a clearing where the two tributes' camp was undoubtably located, he heard a human squeal from behind him, quickly followed by a burst of delighted laughter.

"No fair. That's cheating," a high-pitched musical voice giggled.

Lindon felt his heart beat pick up as he turned, drawn to the sound. He moved slowly, trying to make sure the crunching of the snow under his boots didn't sound too loudly. Then he saw them, through the trees. The skinny boy from Nine was sitting on a high branch, grinning down as the girl from Three crossed her arms at him.

"You said all rules go when you pushed me for that head start," the boy argued happily.

The girl puckered her lips. "But that was different. You could have still gotten me then," she said.

"It's like base. Do you play with bases in Three? I think we do back at home," the boy offered, his brows furrowing.

Lindon had heard enough. Without regard for the boy in the tree, he lunged forwards, tackling the girl before she even realized what was happening. The sound of her scream echoed through the woods as Lindon pulled out the bloodied pointy stick. Yes, he was happy he had taken it. Raising it into the air, he plunged the stick downwards, aiming for the girl's eye. He fancied he was being merciful as it plunged into her socket, killing her almost instantly.

_Boom,_ the cannon sounded.

He wasn't quite done with her yet. Even if she was dead, he wanted to see more blood. With a good pull, he tried to dislodge the stick from her eye, but it rejected the movement, snapping in her body.

Lindon let out a frustrated growl as he tried to dig the sharp end out, getting flesh under his finger nails. Unfortunately, it was in too deep. Then above him, he heard a frightened squeal.

Velt watched the entire scene unfold in utter horror. When Lindon first tackled Belle, he wanted nothing more than to climb down and save her. Their knife was in his pocket. Belle was unprepared and weaponless against the bigger fifteen year old boy. Somehow he couldn't move though. He watched Lindon lift that stick, and he saw his father, with a belt in his hand. Immediately he was overcome by horrible shaking tremors.

"Belle," he cried out as he watched her die. Then the horrible boy began to go back for the stick, digging his fingers into Velt's friend. Tears stung Velt's face and he whimpered to himself.

Lindon heard him though.

Velt felt his stomach twist as the crazy tribute turned to face him, a twisted grin cutting across his face. The boy's brown eyes looked up excitedly at Velt. Instinctively, Velt climbed up higher in the tree, putting more distance between him and the enemy. Tears poured freely down his face as he went upwards. He had come to terms with his death on the train ride, but this wasn't how he wanted to go out. He wanted it to be painless, maybe even brave. If Lindon killed him, he had no doubt it would be unbearably painful.

"Aw, come down," Lindon called up. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He might have sounded genuine if the comment wasn't followed by a maniacal laugh. Velt continued to climb, until he found a nice nook in between two branches where he could hide.

Lindon let out an almost inhuman squealing sound as he started to climb after Velt, but the boy from Seven wasn't made for climbing. At home, Lindon was possibly the most out of shape boy in the entire District. He always had his "friends" do everything for him. He had never climbed a tree before, and to top things off, his arm protested loudly to this newfound torture. He couldn't even make it up to the third branch before he fell back down to the ground. Fortunately for him, the snow was an excellent cushion for his fall.

Groaning, Lindon looked hatefully up at Velt. "Come down," he demanded angrily. Velt hid his face behind one of the branches and squeezed his eyes shut. The boy desperately wanted to have one of his sibling's arms around him, telling him it would be okay. They weren't there though. He was utterly alone now.

"Come down," Lindon screeched a second time, kicking the tree pitifully. Anger etched into his face. He wasn't used to being disobeyed. "Come down or... or I'll kill you."

Of course, that was a truly pitiful threat, as he would definitely be murdering the boy if he did follow instructions. With a livid snarl Lindon shrieked at the boy, but even he knew when things were a lost cause. Velt was too high for him to reach.

"I'll get you later," Lindon sneered. Then he stormed away, wandering off to go find some way to cook the dead rabbit that was still in his pocket.

Meanwhile Velt curled into the fetal position on his branch, putting his head beteen his knees as he tried not to choke on his own sobs.

* * *

**A/N: RIP Belle, she was the first tribute submitted to my story and I would have loved to have seen her go farther. I had a few mode cute Velt/Belle moments that I had planned to write. Unfortunately, this was where her death worked into my plot. **

**If you'll notice updates are slowing down a bit now. School is back in high gear and I pretty much need to finish out the year with as close to straight As as I can get. They should be coming about once a week now, maybe more often if I can.**

**Until next time**


	29. A Freezing Evening

Raven Textan (D9), Lena Reyna (D8), and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

The sun traveled down on the horizon as the three moved even higher up the mountain. They had more than cleared the tree line now, and the ground had turned from mushy snow to solid ice. Every step they took was carried with the greatest care as not to slip. As night finally fell on them, they decided it was time to find some shelter for the night.

"There were some caves a half a mile back," Lena said, looking wearily ahead. "Those might be safest."

"Let's go around this last bend," Raven said.

They did, walking around the corner. There weren't any caves on this end of the arena; however, there did seem to be something of their semblance. On the side of the mountain, a rocky wall pitched upwards like a cliff. Contrary to what one might expect though, it wasn't uniform. On the side of it, a perfect circle was creased on the rock as if there had once been a giant cave there that had at some point been plugged with a huge boulder. Raven cautiously walked up to it, placing his hand on the inner circle. Immediately he pulled it away in alarm.

"What's wrong?" Lena asked frowning.

"It's vibrating," Raven answered.

Roland looked up in surprise, moving forwards himself and placing his hand on the rock. He frowned. "Not constantly though. It's like a bunch of little booms," he said nervously. Then he paused. "Something is behind the rock."

Raven and Lena paled slightly. It was the perfect gamemaker contraption. The location looked over much of the arena, but it was far enough away from the Cornucopia that only a few lone tributes might happen upon it. There was also relatively easy access to the rest of the arena from here as the path Raven, Lena, and Roland had taken up to this rocky area was a little too easy to navigate in retrospect.

"Let's head back to the caves," Raven said. With two quick nods, the rest of his alliance followed as they made their way away from the ominous cliff.

* * *

Eros Cunningham (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), and Foster Finner (D4)

* * *

The three male careers trotted through the snow, each carrying their weapons in their hands. They had launched into a long day of hunting that morning, but had yet to find any success. They'd think that it'd be easy finding tributes with the snow around to provide prints for them; however, they were quickly learning that it wasn't the case. In many areas the snow was so deep, that they crawled over it, being careful not to break the surface for fear of suffocating. In others the ground was as hard as a rock, and the boys had to grip the surrounding trees in the hope that they wouldn't slip.

Of course, things hadn't been completely fruitless. The three of them were extremely vigilant, Kegan especially. The boy from Two was so incredibly well read that he recognized signs of human interaction in the environment that would have gone over the other two's heads. Whether it was a bush that was missing its berries, or an animal whose nest had been disturbed, Kegan recognized the signs almost immediately. For somebody whose natural eye sight was so poor, he saw the world exceptionally well.

Currently, they were following the scattered path that they thought some loner tribute had taken. They knew that they were onto something when they came across a body shaped imprint in the snow under a tree where some tribute must have slept over the past night. Eros's blood was pumping as he scanned the horizon excitedly. He was more than ready to get his second kill.

"She went that way," Kegan said, pointing towards the mountain. The three were currently at the break in between the forest and the craggy steep cliffs.

"What makes you say that?" Foster asked curiously. "Don't you think they'd want to stay in the woods where there's food and stuff.

"Up there," Kegan said, motioning to a specific jutting rock. "There's a disturbance in the snow."

"That's no fun," Foster grumbled looking up the steep hill. "This seems like a lot of work to just get one tribute."

Eros shot the young career a disbelieving look. "What if its the girl from Six," he snarled. "You think its not worth hiking up there to get her? She did outsmart your District partner you know. And she scored a seven."

"Whatever," Foster sighed. "You just don't want to go back to camp without any kills 'cause the girls got somebody earlier today." He was of course referring to the cannon that had sounded just after noon. Chateaux and Kyla had set out in a second hunting party, making their way around the other side of the mountain that morning, leaving Autumn to keep guard. Eros, Kegan, and Foster had just assumed that they had found some prey when the single cannon fired. In their minds the other tributes didn't even have the capability of killing.

"He doesn't want Chateaux to think that he's incompetent," Kegan agreed, nodding. "She already has more kills than him. It must be quite the irritant to your unnaturally high testosterone levels."

Foster cracked up as Eros shot the other two boys a murderous glare. "Dude you just told a joke," Foster grinned, absolutely delighted.

"At least I've got a kill," Eros retorted sourly.

Kegan's face twisted into an ugly scowl. "Perhaps it's simply not so paramount on my priority list," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. Kegan was a terrible liar though. His companions were well aware that Kegan had been moping about Chateaux stealing his one kill since the Games started.

Frowning, Kegan trained his eyes on the ground as he searched for more signs of the tribute they were tracking. He glanced over every inch of the snow, trying to find a sign. Suddenly he stopped abruptly, jabbing his arm out and pushing Eros backwards.

"Stop," he cried out urgently. Foster and Eros froze in anticipation, scanning the horizon for the theat, but they were still as alone as ever.

"What they hell man?" Eros asked, giving Kegan a slight shove back.

"Give me your mace," Kegan demanded solemnly. Hesitantly, Eros obliged, handing Kegan his weapon. The tribute from Two took the spiked ball, and poked the ground hard. The ground was frozen solid of course, Eros didn't know what Kegan's point in this was. He was completely shocked when he found that the patch of ice he had almost stepped on moved, collapsing under the weapon's relatively gentle push. Underneath the thin frozen sheet, water splashed in the ground. If Eros had stepped there, he would have been gotten wet. "I just saved your life," Kegan said. "No need to thank me."

Eros stared for a minute not comprehending as Foster pulled out his empty canteen and filled it up with a smile.

"How quickly do you think you would freeze to death if you were wet in this air?" Kegan cleared up for him.

Understanding registered in his companion's faces. "Where'd you learn that?" Foster asked curiously.

"A book my father had in his library. There was a story by a man named Jack London," Kegan explained.

"Jack? That's a weird name. Where was he from?" Foster inquired, wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

"I believe District Seven, though that is pure conjecture. Eight years ago, the District Seven tribute was named Jack, so it must have some mild popularity there," Kegan shrugged.

"Gotcha, so then we'll just watch our step to make sure that we don't step on any thin ground," Foster said.

"Yes, that would be ideal," Kegan agreed.

Eros looked upwards, his eyes dark. "Let's keep going. This is taking too long," he said. Grabbing his mace back, the boys kept going. They climbed upwards. Slowly working their way around the obvious patches of thin ice on the ground.

They reached a relatively even pathway after another ten minutes of climbing. That was when they came upon the footprints. It appeared they were getting close if their newest victim had stopped covering their tracks. The three boys began walking faster as the excitement of the impending kill was upon them. It was just a matter of minutes now.

Over the next ridge, Luna was slowly picking the meat off of a rabbit she had caught. It had been purely an accident that she'd managed to kill it. She had just been walking along the path when the thing had darted out of nowhere. She happened to be attempting to make a trap at the time with a big rock. Jumping into action, she had taken the rock and smacked the animal up side the head, knocking it out cold. Immediately afterwards, she'd felt immensely guilty for killing something so small and helpless. She needed to eat though, and in the end killing a rabbit would be nothing compared to killing a tribute. She still had no idea how she was going to force herself into doing that.

She had proceeded to make a fire, and cook the little thing. She was incredibly fortunate that the mountain had shielded the smoke of the career tributes that had been tracking her. It appeared though that it wouldn't matter, as they were about to find her anyway.

It wasn't clear who spotted each other first. One minute Luna was throwing the bones of her rabbit away, and the next she was looking up, making eye contact with none other than the blood thirsty Eros who was too happy to be seeing her face.

"She's mine," the District One tribute cried in glee as he darted forward.

Luna bolted at the same time, her legs burning in exertion as she attempted to make her escape. The careers were right on her tail though. The sounds of their boots thumping against the winter ground echoed in her ears. Picking the easiest method of escape, Luna began flying down the mountain, choosing a dangerously steep slope to go down. Her thick hood whipped backwards, revealing her pale blonde hair as wind whistled passed her ears. She needed to get to the woods. That's where safety would be.

Behind her she could hear excited voices arguing. "Not if I get to her first," Foster yelled to Eros as he began stringing an arrow as he ran. A devious smile played across his face as he took aim. Suddenly he felt a light jolt in his shoulder as Eros gave his ally a light shove.

"Not this time," Eros cried as Foster sent an arrow flying harmlessly somewhere to their right.

That one little shove though sent the boy completely off balance as they were already unstable on the steep slope. Foster lost his footing, stumbling forwards in the snow and landing painfully on his side. For a moment he skidded, rolling down the hill, moving ahead of both Eros and Kegan. Eros was ready to jump over the boy as they gained on Luna.

Then the agonizing sound of ice cracking cut through their ears. One moment Foster was brushing himself off, assessing himself for any possible injuries, then the next, he was completely gone, swallowed up in the ice. Kegan halted immediately, a grim look on his face as he changed his course, sprinting towards Foster. Eros on the other hand, looked after Luna, clearly having a dilemma.

"We'll get her later," Kegan said as he fell to his knees besides the hole in the snow. Eros stopped then too, jogging over to Kegan.

Foster had been particularly unfortunate. The pool he had fallen into was unnaturally deep. Kegan couldn't even make out his figure in the black water. "Foster?" he called out, concern etched on his face. He almost hoped that Foster was drowning down there, as surely drowning would be infinitely quicker than the slow freezing process that would come with him returning to the surface.

Foster's head shot up, though, his brown locks of hair sticking to his forehead as he gasped for air. No District Four tribute would ever be caught dead drowning. Kegan gravely reached forwards, holding out a gloved hand to Foster who quickly took it. Eros grabbed his other arm, and the two boys hauled Foster out of the deep water. Foster let out another gasp, on the snow, immediately curling up.

Shivers raked through his body as he wrapped his arms around himself, looking for warmth. "You lost her Eros," he chattered out as he shook his head jerkily. Somehow, Eros didn't find the joke funny. "K-Kegan, is th-there something you can d-d-do?" he asked. His lips were already turning blue.

"A fire," Kegan said emptily as he turned to go job to find wood.

"Stop Kegan, we're not going to be able to get a fire going in time. We left all the matches at home. None of us know how to build one," Eros called, grabbing Kegan by the arm. The boy from Two spun around, slightly shocked. They had matches. They were in Eros's pocket, he had grabbed them last minute. Foster didn't know they had them though. He had already started walking away when Kegan told Eros to take them.

Kegan looked Eros hard in the eye, trying to find what the point of this was. "I thought we were all trying to save each other now," Kegan whispered in a low voice, so Foster wouldn't hear. "That's why you all made me carry Roan down the mountain."

"That was different. She contributed to camp life," Eros shot back before adding. "And she wasn't a threat in the long run."

Kegan shook his head. Leaving Foster to die like this didn't seem right. The boy had possibly the kindest heart out of the six of them. Kegan had never met anybody so genuine. Nevertheless, it was the Hunger Games, and Eros's argument was incredibly logical.

"He's right Foster. We don't have the materials," Kegan said robotically.

Foster bunched into a tighter ball on the ground, "T-t-that's okay," he breathed as he shivered. Eros and Kegan each took a seat beside the freezing boy. The water that had gotten into his hair was freezing, making his hair look like it was coated in an icy frost. Snow particles sat on his eyelashes. His entire face was devoid of color. Foster was almost as pale as the snow itself.

Slowly, he stopped shivering so much as he inched closer and closer to death. His eyes grew glassy as his breathing slowed. "Good luck guys," Foster said as he knew the end was drawing near. He no longer felt the cold. Everything had gone numb. "Tell the girls that I said goodbye. Oh and watch out for Kyla for me. She'll be sad that I'm gone."

"We promise," Eros lied through his teeth.

"Hey Paylor," Foster called out weakly to the sky. "I hope you feel guilty as hell."

Then the boy's eyes fluttered closed, and he laid back gently on the ground. His face relaxed, looking peaceful under the sinking sun. Eros and Kegan waited with him for another twenty minutes before the cannon sounded in the distance. _Boom._

* * *

Totem Earhart (D6)

* * *

Totem was walking through the woods, trying to find a nice clearing where she could watch the sun set when she heard Foster's cannon boom. Pausing for a minute, she began counting tributes in her head. Twelve. There was only Twelve of them left now. Half of the tributes that came into the arena yesterday morning were now dead.

"Well, at least I can say that I made it this far," Totem mumbled to herself, before she kept walking. There had been two deaths that day so far as well as one from the boy Totem had killed about an hour after the anthem. The Games were going relatively fast this year by normal standards; although, deaths usually did come relatively fast in the beginning when there were so many tributes to target. She supposed that it was a good thing though. She'd rather this entire business ended quickly whether she won or not.

Hearing her stomach growl, Totem sat down in the snow, swinging her pack onto the ground. Rummaging through it, she picked out a can of peaches and a fork she had found in the Cornucopia. Using her sickle as a can opener, Totem popped open the lid, and began chowing down. The peaches tasted wonderful after a long day of trekking through the woods. Back at home, her family probably would only splurge to buy fruit like this two or three times a year.

She was just about finished eating when she heard the sound of whimpering coming through the bushes. Cautiously, Totem put the can down in the snow and picked up her sickle. Somebody was coming. Ready to kill, Totem prowled around a tree and glanced forwards. The sound of feet gently crunching in the snow echoed quietly. Through the trees, she could see a small kid's form trudging past her little camp. Relaxing, Totem decided to have some fun with the kid.

Taking a wide route, she circled around, so that she was behind him. Then, just as the kid paused because he thought he heard something, she jumped out.

"Boo!" she cried.

The boy she scared spun around, panic written across his face as he fumbled for his pocket, pulling out a small knife and brandishing it. "Back away," he called nervously. "I-I'll kill you if I have to."

Totem laughed lightly. She had no plan on killing this kid. He wasn't a threat to her. Preying on the youngest tribute in the game wasn't going to do much for her conscience. It was different when she killed the boy from Five the night before. He was in an alliance with possibly the most dangerous guy in the games- Raven from Eight.

"Relax kiddo. I'm not going to gut you," she rolled her eyes.

Velt looked cautiously at Totem, not trusting her for a second. He could see the dried blood on her sickle. "Where'd the blood come from," he asked as his hands shook.

Totem glanced down at her sickle, scowling slightly. "I killed the boy from Five last night," she answered.

"Then why wouldn't you kill me too?" Velt retorted, his face twisting. Little drops of water were frozen on his chin, like he had been crying earlier. Totem could see the raw fear written on his face. It made her gut twist with rage, not towards Velt, but towards the Capitol. Of course, she really sounded like a hypocrite thinking like that. She had killed somebody already.

"'Cause I don't make a habit out of killing defenseless twelve year olds," Totem answered. Then she paused. "And because I think you can help me."

Velt frowned. "Help you?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Totem nodded. "I don't know about you, but I didn't sleep too well last night. It's a little scary you know, without having somebody to sit on guard. I don't think I want a long term alliance, but it's almost dark. I could use somebody to swap watches with. I think it would help us both. You don't look so hot yourself."

Velt looked at himself. He was a bit of a mess. He didn't know what to do with himself now that Belle was gone, and he hadn't even thought about the entire sleeping thing. Now that it was in the front of his mind though, he knew that sleeping on his own would terrify him. All day he had kept looking over his shoulder, searching for the crazy blonde boy who had murdered Belle. Lindon terrified him. "Alright," Velt agreed in a small voice.

Totem grinned, and led the kid back to the spot where she had been eating. Picking up the can of peaches, she offered the rest to Velt. She was feeling kind of full anyway. "Whoa, where'd you get all of this stuff," Velt asked wide eyed. The pack he had picked up from the Cornucopia had been pretty impressive, but it was nothing compared to the amount of supplies Totem had with her. The only group that ever had this much stuff during the Games was the careers usually.

"I played dead," Totem smirked proudly before launching into the full blown tale of her clever scheme to get the supplies. She was quite proud of it actually, and it was nice sharing the story with somebody.

"Sounds like you've done pretty good," Velt said quietly.

"Yeah, well you're still alive, so you can't have been doing that badly," Totem responded.

But Velt looked at the ground, his eyes distant and teary. Totem was obviously oblivious to the fact that Velt had an alliance earlier that morning, but he wasn't ready to tell her. He wasn't ready to talk to anybody about Belle. Totem frowned at the kid, feeling like she should do something to make him feel better.

"Well, if you don't think you're doing well now, I guess I'll have to change that," Totem said. "I saw you with that spear in training. I'm going to get you a spear tomorrow. Then we'll go our own ways, m'kay?"

Velt looked up at Totem in shock. "A spear, but the only place where weapons are is-"

"The Cornucopia?" Totem interrupted. "Yeah, I know

* * *

**A/N: Weekend+free time= update. Hope you guys liked this chapters. RIP Foster. He was one of my favorite characters to write because his background story was interesting. He was like all the fun of a career minus the sadistic murderous complex. But it was his time to kick the bucket. Paylor is back in D4 feeling pretty crappy right about now.**

**Until next time**


	30. The Raid

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), Chateaux Masona (D2), Kyla Brooke (D4)

* * *

The had set on the horizon, leaving only the moon to light up the path back to the Cornucopia. Kegan and Eros weren't looking forwards to returning to the girls. Not only did they have to tell them that they had failed to get any kills, but they also had lost Foster. It didn't look good for their track record, especially when they both thought that the girls had managed to get somebody while they were out. Of course, they had to come back though.

Trudging through the snow, they moved into the clearing. A fire burned near the mouth of the Cornucopia, and three slight figures were sitting around it.

"I know you all missed me," Eros grinned as they approached. "But don't worry, I'm back."

"I don't know how we managed," Chateaux sighed dramatically, returning the wide smile. Eros continued to exchange some light flirtatious banter with Chateaux while Kegan stood miserably beside him. Autumn looked from one boy to the next, concern etched in the crease between her two eyebrows. Kegan made eye contact with her, knowing that she had already guessed what had happened to the third member of their party.

"Where's Foster, Eros?" she asked, tension in her voice.

Eros's eyes flickered dangerously to his District partner. "He's dead," he said bluntly, keeping his eyes level with hers. "By the mountain there is a bunch of frozen over springs. He fell in one and froze to death. It could've happened to anyone."

Autumn frowned, as she had another staring contest with Eros. She knew he was lying about something, though she wasn't sure what. Kegan was well aware that Eros wasn't giving the full part of the story. He skipped the part where he pushed Foster onto the ground, indirectly causing him to die. Kegan wasn't going to tattle though. He knew better than to get on Eros's bad side.

"That's a shame," Chateaux commented lightly, though judging by her intonation, she didn't think it was too horrible an occurance at all. Kyla was the only one who seemed genuinely distressed. Her eyes were distant, and the subtle ache was back in her chest. _Liam, Poseidon, Marina, Foster: the names of District Four's dead. _It was almost worse with Foster though. Her brothers and Marina, they volunteered for this, but Foster, well, death wasn't his choice. If she lived through this, she knew his face would haunt her dreams too. At least she didn't see him die. Perhaps the nightmares wouldn't be as vivid then.

"He said to tell you he said good bye," Kegan spoke up, his eyes scanning Kyla's face. She nodded, blinking a few times, telling herself not to cry.

"Tomorrow, I want the girl from Five," Eros mused changing the subject. "I had her earlier today. Just a few more minutes and she would have been dead. If Foster hadn't tripped, I'd have gotten her."

"I thought you wanted Kyla to have the next kill," Autumn mentioned. Her sole purpose in bringing it up was to bother him. He wanted this kill more than almost anything. She could see it in his eyes.

"Didn't Chateaux and Kyla kill somebody earlier today?" Eros said surprised.

"No, we found a bunch of footprints and a fire pit, but the area had been abandoned. We didn't find any tributes. We thought that both cannons belonged to you two," Chateaux responded.

"One of them was Foster, but we didn't off anyone today," Kegan shook his head. As if on cue the anthem started. The three looked up, watching the faces appear. Belle came first, then Foster, followed lastly by Layton before it shut off.

"Looks like the competition has been busy," Chateaux said, her lips curling.

"Tomorrow we get the girl from Five," Eros said brusquely.

"Whatever you say Eros," Chateaux rolled her eyes, smiling sweetly.

* * *

Totem Earhart (D6) and Velt Ganger (D9)

* * *

Totem woke up feeling immensely refreshed. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, as the day seemed to be getting underway. Rolling over, in her sleeping bag, she caught sight of Velt, watching the shadows attentively. She grinned at his serious face. Making a temporary alliance with him had been a brilliant idea. That first night she had only gotten about an hour or two of sleep; however, over the past thirteen hours or so, she'd managed to get roughly seven. She felt practically brand new.

"Ready for a big day kid," she asked as she sat up in her sleeping bag.

Velt looked over at Totem, nodding. He too had been grateful for the company over the night. Totem had a sleeping bag with her from the Cornucopia, and she had given it to him during her time on watch. To be honest, he hadn't slept that well. Every time he had closed his eyes he saw Lindon stabbing Belle in the eye with that stick. Then the image would morph, and it'd be his father stabbing her. And then it would morph again and he'd be stabbing one of Velt's siblings, all the while laughing maniacally. At least Velt had been warm though. If that was the only positive that came out of this, it would have been worth it.

"Yeah," Velt said quietly as he twisted his fingers around the small knife again. He could feel his heart pick up as he thought about the crazy task they were going to embark on. Having a spear would make him feel more secure though, and if now was probably the best opportunity he was going to get.

The two of them opened up their packs and had a breakfast of crackers and frozen grapes. Both of them were careful not to eat too much, as they neither could afford to cramp up during their little raid. With that the two slung their packs over their shoulders and started to head towards the Cornucopia.

"Here's the plan," Totem said as they walked. "We're going to split up okay? I'm going to walk around to the tail side of the Cornucopia and get their attention. They'll all come running for me because I think I pissed them off with the whole playing dead thing. When they're chasing me, you're going to run into the Corncucopia and grab a spear and whatever else you think you can carry easily. If I'm in trouble, then feel free to come and give me a hand, but if it looks like I've got things under control, then break away for the other side of the clearing. It's best if they don't know that you're there. And I want to get as many of them as possible with my scythe."

"Where should we meet up afterwards?" Velt asked. "Maybe back to where we slept last night?"

Totem shook her head solemnly. During training, she had tried to make an alliance with that girl from Twelve, but had been rejected. In retrospect, she knew that going alone had been better. She had more freedom that way, and she didn't have to deal withe the pain of losing an ally. She didn't want anything long term now, and it would be easier to break off the alliance without that sort of awkward goodbye after the Cornucopia raid. "Kid, I told you I didn't want anything long term," Totem said seriously.

"Oh, alright," Velt said quietly. He tried hide the disappointment in his gut. He liked Totem. She was different from Belle in so many ways, but when he was with her, he felt like he was with Brye, one of his older sisters. The two girls were very similar, and both made Velt feel safe, if he could ever feel safe while in the arena. At least he wouldn't have to watch her die though. Just thinking about it made him shudder.

Totem didn't respond to him, as voices suddenly filled the air. They could see light filtering in from the clearing the Cornucopia was in. Putting a finger to her lips, Totem motioned to Velt to stay quiet. The two prowled forwards, so that they could see the five remaining careers, but they couldn't see them. They could see the spear that Totem had promised Velt sitting on the wall of the Cornucopia, untouched.

"I'm going to circle around to the other side of the clearing," Totem whispered to Velt.

The boy nodded, not wanting her to go. This was probably goodbye for them though, and he had to accept it. "Wait, Totem," he called out, grabbing her arm. "I-if I don't win, I want you to."

Totem smiled sadly at him. "Back at 'cha kiddo," she said. Grabbing her scythe, she vanished into the woods. Velt watched the careers go about their morning as he waited for Totem to start the distraction. They seemed to be talking something over, and the two tributes from One seemed to be arguing. The boy kept pointing towards the mountain, an exasperated look on his face, while the girl kept motioning towards the forest and their camp. Meanwhile, the boy from Two was watching them silently, cleaning his glasses on his jacket as he did so. The girl from Four was sitting in the center of their camp, staring absently at the fire, completely spacing out. Then lastly the girl from Two was watching the mountains that the boy from One kept gesturing to with great interest.

A chill went down Velt's back as he looked up to the big hulking peaks. He didn't like the mountain, not one bit. The entire arena was so unfamiliar to him. Back at home, District Nine was flat and treeless. The only plants in sight were grain for the most part. There had been a few trees, but a forest would have been unheard of. Still, Velt had always liked trees. It's where he'd run to to find security. He distrusted the mountain though. It was strange to his eyes, and he didn't trust the uneven ground under his feet. If possible, he would avoid that half of the arena for the entirety of the Games.

Looking out into the clearing again, Velt wondered what was taking Totem so long. The journey around the clearing wasn't that long. Then he realized that she was waiting. The careers were in motion. Four of them were gathering packs, and picking up their weapons, while the girl from One watched, looking unhappy. He felt an elated smile whip across his face. They were going on a hunting party. What luck!

Totem was on the other end of the arena, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she watched them go too. The same train of thought was going through her mind as she watched them go. It was a little disappointing that they were leaving the girl from One behind instead of the girl from Four. Totem would much rather be going up against a weaker opponent; however, if she did succeed in gutting the girl from One, it would be a pretty good feat indeed.

The four careers that were going hunting disappeared into the trees, heading towards the mountain. She waited a few minutes longer for them to get out of ear shot before digging her feet into the snow, ready to run. She didn't want them to come running back when they heard her yelling. She could hear her heard beating in her eardrums as she kneeled down into a crouch. _Ready, Set, Go!_

"I'm going to kill a career!" Totem taunted as she sprinted forwards, straight at the girl from One.

Autumn had relaxed by the fire as she watched her comrades leave, but Totem's voice sent her into action. Grabbing her twin swords, she whirled around to face the threat. Her jaw set when she saw that it was the girl from Six, the one who had escaped them during the bloodbath. To her surprise, Totem didn't look the slightest bit hurt. She knew immediately that Kyla couldn't have ever attacked this girl. She looked perfectly healthy. So then what had Kyla been doing during the bloodbath?

Totem stopped half way through her charge when she saw that the girl from One wasn't going to run out to meet her. Brandishing her scythe, she stuck her tongue out at Autumn. "What's the matter One? You scared I'll best you? Or are you still shocked that I'm alive. Didn't Four tell you that she never even fought me?" Totem called out.

Autumn frowned deeply as she decided to take the bait. The girl from Six was relying on the fact that she wasn't a smart fighter, that she had a temper. Well, she had chosen the wrong career for that. Autumn never lost her head. Not ever.

That didn't mean that she couldn't pretend to though.

She charged Totem, her twin swords glistening in the sun light. Dried blood was still present near the hilt of one. It had stained some of the leather grip when Autumn had slaughtered this girl's District partner.

The two met where Totem was standing, and immediately the sound of metal clanged through the air. Autumn went for the first attack, slicing forwards with one of her swords. Totem had been ready though, bringing the metal staff of her scythe over her head for defence. Autumn slashed forwards with the second sword, and Totem jumped backwards, biting her lip as the blade made a shallow cut in her thigh. Before Autumn could attack again, she whipped her scythe around to her side, bringing the blade across Autumn's face, making a thin line of blood seep out of her cheek.

At this exact moment, Velt came dashing out of the woods, running full speed towards the Cornucopia. He was inside it within the next ten seconds, scanning the walls rapidly with his eyes. He grabbed a spear off the wall, then scanned for anything else usefull. Quickly he flung an unrolled sleeping bag over his shoulder,as Totem had taken her's with her. Right before he sprinted back out to the woods, a second, longer spear caught his eye. He grabbed that one too, just in case he needed it.

Outside, Totem and Autumn were still engaged in heated combat. Autumn had landed two more blows on Totem, cutting a deep gash into her forearm as well as scrapping another shallow cut into her side. Totem had been holding her own though. She hadn't broken Autumn's skin again yet, but she had whacked the girl's knees with the blunt side of her scythe. Autumn was currently fighting whilst on her knees.

It was obvious that the career was a better fighter though. While Totem's brow was creased with sweat as her breaths came in quickened intervals. Autumn's expression was cold and collected as she analyzed her opponent for potential weak points. Behind Autumn, Totem saw Velt running out of the Cornucopia, two spears and a sleeping bag on his person. Grinning, she nailed Autumn in the stomach with the staff part of her scythe again. The breath hissed out of Autumn's lungs, but she kept fighting.

Velt looked over his shoulder. Seeing Totem's fight with Autumn, he paused. Autumn may have been on her knees, but she seemed to have gained some sort of advantage from being there. She was aiming for Totem's feet, making the other girl jump backwards over and over as she danced around the attacks. For some reason, he knew that Totem would lose if this continued. Taking the longer spear, Velt turned towards them, taking aim. If he missed he'd never forgive himself. Stepping forwards, he sent the spear flying.

Totem saw the projectile wobbling through the air, grinning. It was right on target. Thinking that Velt had finished the job, Totem turned and started running, Autumn began to tail her immediately. The thee steps she took running after Totem saved her life. Instead of sinking into her back, the spear landed with a thick crunch into the snow. Autumn wheeled around, seeing Velt in the distance, running away from the Cornucopia, with the second spear and sleeping bag. He was too far out of reach for her to catch now. Spinning back around, she looked for Totem.

The girl from Six was still retreating disappearing into the woods. She left a trail of footprints in her wake. Autumn paused, breathing heavily. Totem was fast; she would never catch her. Shaking her head in disgust, Autumn headed back to the Cornucopia, ready to inspect her injuries.

* * *

Luna Moristeen (D5)

* * *

Luna tiredly rose to her feet. Exhaustion echoed through her bones, but she couldn't afford to rest anymore. After the terribly close run in with the careers the day before, she had run for practically the rest of the day. She back tracked the way she had come, making her way around to the other side of the arena. By the time she had decided to take a break, she had practically collapsed into the snow. Now, several hours later, she woke up feeling no better rested than she did when she had fallen asleep. The only difference was that now she was hungry. The last thing she ate was a small rabbit the day before, and she hadn't gotten the chance to finish it before the careers found her.

With a heavy sigh, Luna began to plod forwards, towards the plant side of the forest. She needed food, and she knew that the odds of her finding another rabbit were slim. Her only chance was scavenging up some plants.

Really Luna wasn't cut out for the Hunger Games. Her petite frame never held much weight, and so by the afternoon of the first day, she had been weak from hunger. Then there was the entire killing matter. When she had said goodbye to Ignacio, she had promised to do her best to win. Now that she was here though, the thought of murdering somebody seemed even more impossible. At least the issue hadn't come up yet. All the sponsors out there still were completely unaware of Luna's inner moral turmoil. Not that she had gotten any gifts yet.

Luna watched her surroundings as she walked. She passed several unnaturally aware looking animals as she walked. A snowy white owl perched on a branch, watching her walk by. Two yellow eyes poked out of a hollow hole in the bark of a tree. In an earthy burrow, a white Fanged Feline slept. Luna tried to ignore them though, and kept walking. She knew that the last death had been that of the boy from Four the day earlier, and that had been as a result of the cold. The gamemakers were probably thirsting for some blood, but it hadn't been quite long enough for them to send their mutations out prowling. She had a little bit more time before they resorted to that.

Up ahead, she saw some small shrubs starting to protrude from the ground, a sign that she was getting close to some food source. After another minute of walking, the ground was covered in thick vegetation. Frowning slightly, Luna began the search for something edible. She hadn't memorized enough of the plants during training. There were several different types of berries that she thought were safe. But she wanted to be sure.

She was inspecting a spinney leaf that slightly resembled mint when she heard them. Of course, by then it was already too late.

"It's been too long," a cold voice whispered in her ear. Luna shrieked as she wheeled around, trying to squirm away from him, but the boy from One was already right next to her. His powerful hand wrapped around her throat even before she had a chance to look at him. His fingers weren't squeezing hard enough to choke her though. No, he planned on giving her a much bloodier death.

Luna's eyes watched terrified as the boy reached for his mace, looking like the angel of death as the wind blew through their coats.

"Eros wait," a voice called from behind.

The boy paused, looking over his shoulder. The girl from Two was the one who had spoken. Her lip was formed into a slight pout as she slinked over towards them. "You know, Kyla should really be the one to get this kill," she whispered into Eros's ear. "You promised it to her after all."

Eros groaned. "It's different. She should get that girl from Six. She's the one who got the better of her. I owe this one," he said, shaking Luna slightly.

"You know, guys who have restraint can be sexy too," Chateaux murmured. Now that weakened Eros's resolve. Behind them, Kegan wrinkled his nose, though he didn't interfere. He was beginning to see the intelligence behind his District partner's tactics. Truthfully, she didn't care for Eros, but the boy from One had a weakness for flirting. Chateaux was ten times better at reeling in the big burly career than everyone else, even Autumn who prided herself slightly for being able to manage her allies. In reality, Chateaux was the expert manipulator of the group. She was just so good at it that nobody noticed.

"Make it slow and painful Kyla," Eros muttered as he released Luna.

Luna didn't even try to run as the girl from Four nervously walked over to her. With her javelin, she reeled her arm backwards, aiming for the throat. Her eyes met Luna's regret already present in their depths, before she impaled her. For a moment, all Luna could think about was the time she had lost with her beloved mother, now that she knew that the woman didn't hate her. But then she thought of where she was going: to Starr, the sister she thought she had abandoned.

In the end, she could be at peace with that.

* * *

**A/N RIP Luna. So I really liked Luna, she was a good kid. The problem was that I just didn't know what to do with her. Her profile said that she'd probably be a loner that wouldn't want to kill anybody, and while that's great and all, what do you write about that kind of person? I couldn't give her dialouge because she had nobody to talk to, and she wouldn't have been doing any major plotting against people because she just didn't have that kind of personality. But that's why she had to go, and also why she probably wasn't featured as strongly in the past few chapters as the others.**

**On a different note Ive seen a few different writers with theme songs for tributes in their stories on their profile pages and I think it's kind of cool. So if you have any ideas for a theme song for a tribute then just shoot me a pm and I'll stick it onto my profile page. I don't care if they are your tribute, dead, alive, or whatever. I just think it'd be something fun to shave on my page. **

**Any who, until next time. **


	31. Mercy

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), Chateaux Masona (D2), and Kyla Brooke (D4)

* * *

The four careers returned to camp feeling exceptionally cheery. Another name on their hit list had been scratched off, and this time it had come with no casualties. Their chances at winning were growing better by the day, and who wouldn't be happy about that? A bit of the tension had been released from the group. The vague suspicions that Kyla was too soft had been dispelled. Now Kegan was the only one without any kills on his resume, but somehow this didn't arouse the same suspicion. Nobody doubted that he had guts to finish a job.

Even Eros hadn't seemed too upset about letting Kyla have that last kill; although, he was operating on a rather one-sided assumption that whatever tribute they came across next would automatically belong to him.

Needless to say, when they returned to the Cornucopia, with the icy wind blowing in their smiling faces, they were extremely surprised to find Autumn sitting silently by the roaring fire, tending injuries. Her eyes flickered gravely towards her comrades. There was no fear in their depths, just cold calculating thoughts as she judged their reactions. She was no fool. If Eros was in a particularly foul mood, she knew that her life would be at risk for failing to kill the girl from Six.

Kyla broke into a steady jog as she saw Autumn pull a wad of cotton away from her face, revealing a noticeable cut across her cheek. "What happened?" the girl asked, as she arrived by Autumn's side.

"The girl from Six and the boy from Nine, they came to raid the Cornucopia," Autumn said, her eyes watching her District partner cautiously.

"And you didn't get them?" Eros asked coldly.

"They had me split. The girl came from over there, and I went to fight her, while the boy ran to grab things from the Cornucopia. I would have had the girl except that I got distracted by the boy. I wasn't sure whether to get the kill or save our stuff."

"That was clever of them," Kegan muttered frowning. Coming from him, that was probably one of the greatest compliments known to man kind. It was also a sign of acceptance. Autumn couldn't have done anything to stop the raid.

"What'd they get?" Chateaux asked.

"A spear and a sleeping bag," Autumn replied. "The girl already had a sickle. She looked pretty well off, actually. She must have some stash of food in the woods somewhere."

Eros scowled. "When I win, I'm telling all of the tributes I mentor to stab all the dead bodies a few times over after the bloodbath," he declared grumpily.

Chateaux snorted, raising an eyebrow at Eros. It was awfully bold to declare that he already had the competition in the bag. They didn't give him too much grief about it though. After all, they all pretty much announced their pre-mature victories during the interviews.

"Tomorrow, we'll split up into two hunting groups. One will go after Six and Nine, the other should start looking for Eight's alliance. We've already let that boy go too long with his eleven in training," Autumn said, her jaw set.

Eros's lips curled excitedly. "I call looking for Eight," he said giddily.

* * *

Raven Textan (D8), Lena Reyna (D8), and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

Roland ran outside the cave, following the familiar beeping sound. By now, the three of them had gotten used to the constant gifts. Somebody out there seemed to like them very much, because the moment they decided they wanted something, it magically appeared, floating down from the sky. They had quite the collection of silver canisters stockpiled in the cave they had settled in the other day. This time, they had asked for a sleeping bag. The arena was colder than it had been on the first day, and it was apparent that sleeping in this weather for another night might very well kill them.

Roland grabbed the parachute out of the night sky, walking back into their cave with it. The silver container was noticeably larger this time, as its contents were larger. "Mail's here," Roland announced, pulling out a large plush white blanket. "Looks like we're sharing tonight."

Raven nodded as he unscrewed the lid to a half eaten container of frozen vegetables. It was another gift they had received the previous day that they hadn't finished yet. It would be serving as that nights dinner. Due to the cold weather, everything they received would keep for the duration of the Games, as long as they rationed it properly. The three sat in a circle around dinner in their cave, draping the blanket over their laps.

"Not bad for not grabbing anything from the Cornucopia eh?" Roland grinned looking around. He had been in an uncharacteristically good mood since the sponsor gifts had started coming. During the day Roland walked around the mountains surrounding their cave, making a mental map in his head of the arena, and it appeared that nothing pleased him more.

In truth, the group had been doing exceptionally well though. Hidden away in their cave, the only sign of the atrocities that were being committed in the other areas of the arena was the nightly anthem that always came with the faces of the dead. Just an hour ago it had sounded actually. That day, only the girl from Five had died. Raven had been exceptionally silent as he thought about her rejecting his offer to join the alliance. Then he had walked back into the cave, muttering to himself about how there was nothing he could have done.

"Yes well, I think my dad's been doing some soliciting," Raven smiled back, his mind returning to the present.

"Right you're rich in Eight," Roland nodded, remembering Raven's interview.

Raven frowned at the word rich. Back in school, it always seemed to have a pretty negative connotation to it. He always worked exceptionally hard so that he would never be defined by the word. He didn't want to be Raven the rich kid, he wanted to be Raven, everybody's best friend. But still, there was no denying the benefits of having money. They were surrounding him that very moment. "I guess so," Raven answered. "You'd never call my dad rich if you saw his friends though. They put us to shame. I bet most of this stuff is coming from their pockets."

"Whoever it does belong to, we all owe them a thank you," Lena said quietly. Raven nodded in agreement.

"What about you, though. You said your family owned a farm right? That sounds pretty wealthy to me," Raven asked Roland.

The other boy shrugged his broad shoulders. "Awe, we weren't rich. We had a big ranch sure, but I have so many siblings, its not like we got to buy a lot of stuff. Most of our money just went to feeding everybody and maintaining the ranch. I loved it though. I miss the big open fields, and my horse, Katty," he explained.

"When you go back what do you think you will do," Raven smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly.

Roland frowned. "You mean if?" he asked, the reality of the Games, bringing a depressing cloud over the group.

"I think that's sort of depressing. I mean, if you'd rather talk about things in the context that we're all going to die, that's fine, but I've found that its more bearable when you pretend like this is just a sort of extended vacation. If you do win, then you can deal with the reality of things later. If you don't, well then you'll be happier now if you just say otherwise," Raven shrugged.

Roland eyed him carefully, before answering the original question. "Alright, well then when I win, I'm going to go treat my brother Mathew to dinner at the stable. We've never been apart for so long before," he responded.

Raven grinned. "What about you Lena?"

Lena blushed as her thoughts wandered to Calico and his innocent mischievous grin. "I think I'll go out to dinner with my best friend too," she muttered shyly; although, she wouldn't be going to dinner with him as friends at that point.

"I'm going to organize the school board and have a big welcome home party for the both of us," Raven said. "It's going to be so huge that I'll have to bother the mayor about getting the rights to bog up the streets again because we won't fit in the gymnasium like most of my events usually do. Everybody's going to be invited of course. Maybe I'll even ask my brothers to come. They might actually be civil to me now that I almost died right?"

Lena smiled. "I think that everybody at home would hate them if they didn't," she answered.

"You'll be invited too Roland. They'll let you come of course because of Victors' privileges and what not," Raven said, elbowing his friend.

"If I'm coming then you're going to have to give me the plans. Maybe I could help you make the schedule," Roland responded absently.

"Sounds like a plan," Raven grinned. Then his joyous expression faltered slightly as he glimpsed the cold tundra outside their small isolated cave. Briefly he wondered how long it would be until the careers showed up. He repeated himself, "sounds like a plan."

* * *

Velt Ganger (D9)

* * *

Walking on his own again, Velt felt infinitely better than he did the previous day, when Totem had found him. The older girl had vanished almost as fast as she had appeared, but in that time, she had completely healed him. He had found his focus again, now that he had a nice spear with him, and his mind was completely set on winning. He had to do it, for Belle.

In the distance, the sun was rising. The previous night had been uneventful as Velt passed the time trying to get to sleep in a tree. While he still had woken up twice due to two more horrific nightmares, both involving Belle's dead corpse, he did manage to get in at least a few hours of rest.

Now he was coming up upon the craggy outlying rocks at the base of the mountain. He didn't plan on climbing too far towards the peak, but he was itching to find some shelter from the wind. It had picked up some time around the anthem last night, and had yet to stop. His face felt raw and numb from the constant icy chill of it scrapping across his face. He wanted to find a nice cave to hide in, and unfortunately, the only place that he might find one was near the mountain.

After a half an hour of careful searching, he found one. It was deep, in the very base of the alp. Ducking out of the wind, Velt sighed in relief. Without the wind, the air felt warmer. Looking around, he grinned. This was the perfect hiding spot. It was about as spacious as his room in here, and the forest was in sight at the mouth. Velt slipped his pack off of his back, and started to pick through its contents. He decided to eat three crackers and a piece of jerky. He had eaten about quarter of his rations since they had started. That was another reason that finding Totem had been lucky. Over the past day, he hadn't eaten a bite of his own food.

As he had nothing better to do, Velt sunk down against the wall to the cave, and closed his eyes, hoping to get a little bit of sleep in.

Little to his knowledge, two tributes were on the move, just a quarter-mile from his place of safety. Chateaux and Kyla trekked through the snow, following the trail of light footprints that Velt had made in the snow. They too were feeling the effects of the wind, and they shielded their faces as they pushed forwards, both silent. They had been the ones selected to hunt for Totem and Velt earlier that morning, while Eros and Autumn went looking for Raven and his alliance. Kegan had been left to guard camp, as nobody truly trusted Autumn with the important job anymore.

At first, the two girls had set off following a trail of footprints mingled with an occasional fleck of blood from Totem. It had disappeared after about a half mile though, as the girl had decided to start covering her tracks. Deciding that where they found one tribute, they'd find the other, the two rounded back, stopping to have lunch with Kegan before starting to follow the trail Velt left. The boy had ran out of the Cornucopia with adrenaline clouding his thoughts. The trail he had left was almost too easy to follow. To the girl's surprise, the prints never met up with a second trail, but they didn't care. As long as they came back with at least one kill, their day will have been a success.

They came up on the cave about ten minutes after Velt had dozed off, his hands still clutching his spear. Chateaux elbowed Kyla. "It's just the boy," she whispered. The two stalked forwards, making sure they were as quiet as possible. The constant howling of the wind was the only sound that could be heard.

"Yeah," Kyla muttered back.

Chateaux could hear her heart thumping in her ears as they entered the cave. When Autumn had told them the boy from Nine had taken the spear from the Cornucopia, she hadn't thought about who the boy actually was. Now that she got a close up of his face though, she remembered him as the boy who had a black eye during the reaping. It had healed by now, revealing a peaceful innocent child's face.

"You get him," Chateaux muttered. "Eros will be impressed. I don't need another kill right now."

Kyla went white as she looked at Chateaux, but she didn't argue. She didn't want to kill the boy, but she couldn't say no to Chateaux. She was keenly aware of the chopping order in the careers. Autumn, Eros, and Chateaux all seemed to be having a passive aggressive competition for the spot of leader, making all of them very important in the ranks of the pack. She wasn't really sure where Kegan stood within the three of them, but she was sure she was at the bottom. She needed to impress the others every time she got the chance.

"Alright," she said as she gripped her javelin in her sweaty hands. She raised it over her head, just as she had done with Luna the day before, and prepared to make the kill shot.

On the ground, Velt was having a nightmare. Belle was standing before him, holding out her hand as she smiled at him. He wanted so badly to reach out and take it. She wanted to play tag with him. They hadn't finished their game the day she had died. Just as he reached out to take it though, he heard Totem yelling from behind him, telling him not to do it. He stood there frozen, torn between his two allies. His heart weeped to follow after Belle, where things felt safe. His gut though, warned him that Totem was telling the truth, that there was danger with Belle. The pressure was crushing him with its suffocating weight. He completely and utterly torn.

Yelling, Velt woke with a freight, flailing his spear forwards. He opened his eyes astonished and unprepared as he found two careers staring at him. One of the had a javelin raised above her head as she prepared to impale him.

He reacted on instinct, thrusting his spear forwards, forcing the tip into her torso. Kyla didn't even have time to react, everything had happened so fast. One second she was talking herself into a kill, the next a spear was jutting out of her chest as a searing pain plunged through her heart. The force of the weapon entering her body sent her backwards, bumping her back against the wall before she sank to the floor in shock. Her hands clutched the weapon, holding it gingerly upwards as she looked down horrified at the wound.

Blood was already soaking through the thick winter jacket she was wearing, seeping outwards like a tear drop on a letter. She looked up at the boy, her eyes wide with fear and pain. Velt met her gaze, and released his spear in an instant, stumbling backwards to the other side of the cave terrified of what he had just done.

Kyla tried to think about her family, about how she would miss them, but their faces wouldn't come. Only one sentence passed through her mind as her life was snuffed out:

_Liam, Poseidon, Mariana, Foster, Kyla: a list of District Four's dead._

The cannon boomed.

Chateaux watched her ally die, her jaw clenched as she looked sadly down at the girl without batting an eyelid. She turned her eyes to Velt, frowning. The boy was now weaponless, as his spear was still lolling grotesquely out of Kyla's corpse. His momentary fighting instinct had vanished as he cowered in the corner. He looked so much younger than the average tribute. His face had a round innocence to it, and his eyes housed a childish terror; although, the source of his fear was anything but childish.

"In the interviews, you said something about your father," Chateaux said, her sword turning in her hand.

He stared at her, on the verge of tears from fright. "M-my friend's dad," he corrected.

"Now's not the time to lie," Chateaux muttered, her eyes flashing threateningly. "It was your dad right? Not some little imaginary friend of yours."

"I'll get in trouble," Velt said hoarsely, thinking of how infuriated his father would be if he told the entire world that he beat Velt.

Chateaux went silent as she stared at Velt, her eyes losing their focus as she thought. Her own father had been wonderful when he was alive. He had always been smiling and buying her dresses. That was before she began training, when it was just her and Zia. She had been his little princess back then. Once again Zia's words echoed in her mind: _play the way your dad would've wanted you to play. _

If only things were that simple. She wasn't daddy's little girl anymore. She had been hardened and whittled by years of her mother's "abuse". She was never abused physically the way this boy was, but all the same, she felt abused. And she had allowed it. She had been molded- mind and body into the intense killing Hunger Games machine. She would never revert back to the way she was before all of this happened. But she could still feel that little girl within her. It was stirring as she contemplated killing Velt Ganger from District Nine.

"My mother would want me to kill you," Chateaux said aloud, tilting her head to the side.

Velt opened his mouth and closed it as he stared at the career, waiting for her to make a move. He wasn't quite sure what was going on. It was clear that the girl had this situation under control. Her eyes were curious. The smell of sticky blood that was beginning to seep from her dead ally's corpse didn't even phase her. He didn't understand what was taking her so long. Nothing about her eased stature suggested that she had any moral dilemma with killing him. She didn't even look conflicted- just distantly inquisitive. What was she waiting for?

"But my dad wouldn't have," she said, a sudden conviction crossing her eyes. "So I think I'm not going to kill you."

"Why?" the question slipped out of Velt's mouth in a quick high-pitched tremor. He didn't even mean to say anything.

Chateaux smiled as she wheeled around, staring at the sky. Then she raised an extremely offensive finger. "Here that mother dearest? F- you," she grinned. Then she turned to Velt again, clearly assuming that had answered his question- and it most definitely had. Briskly she made a move forwards, making Velt jump. She wasn't headed for him though. She was headed towards Kyla.

Pulling the spear out of the District Four girl's stomach, she waved the bloody weapon at Velt. "I'll be taking this," she said. "I'm feeling pretty merciful and all today, but I'm not stupid." Velt didn't complain. As far as he was concerned, that spear had saved his life once that day, that was enough.

"Next time I see you, I'll slit your throat. So please, don't think we're friends," Chateaux said.

Then she disappeared into the outside snowy tundra.

* * *

Totem Earhart (D6)

* * *

Totem walked through the woods, on the opposite side of the arena as her old ally Velt. The wind howled as it billowed against her side. She was walking with it because trying to trek in the opposite direction as the wind was painstakingly tedious. Also this way her face was shielded from it. She could taste the storm in the air. The gamemakers were prepping for something big, though she wasn't sure what.

As she walked, Totem took care to nurse some of the injuries she had sustained from her fight with Autumn. None of her injuries had been too serious. Mainly it was just a mildly deep gash in her forearm and a shallow slit in her thigh. She had gotten the bleeding to stop a few hours ago, now a dull throbbing in her arm was the worst of the pain. The real problem was keeping warm with the wounds. The cut in her thigh had severed her pant legs, breaking the warm seal they had maintained up until that point. She had, of course, tried to mend the hole, but she was no seamstress. The medical wrap that held the fabric together flapped open occasionally when the wind was blowing in the right direction at the right time.

Totem felt a shiver run down her spine as she kept walking. The empty soundless night depressed her slightly. It had been nice having Velt with her. He was a good kid, and made pretty decent company. Even though it had been for so short a time, she felt it was worth it. Both of them had benefitted immensely from it. They were going to have to part eventually though. At least doing it early lessened their chances of being in the final two together. Those were the worst years, when an alliance from the outlying Districts made it to the end, and were forced to turn on each other.

Still, Totem hoped desperately that the cannon that had sounded earlier hadn't been Velt. It was too weird to think he might already be gone from the world. Really it was odd to think that any of them were dead. If she closed her eyes she could still hear Conner, her District partner, babbling about pocket squares in her ear.

It didn't matter though. In two weeks they'd all be dead because she planned on winning. That was just the way things had to be.

Totem heard the noise before she saw it. The low muttering traveled on the wind in muffled grumbles. At first, she didn't even think it was anything significant, but as she kept walking, it grew louder. Following her ears, Totem drew her sickle forwards, preparing herself for another fight.

She reached a small path way between the trees that had ben matted down by somebody's footprints pressing it down several times over. Ahead she saw a scrawny disheveled boy with blonde hair. It didn't take a genius to know there was something off with him. His dark silhouette was stained with blood, and he sustained a light limp. The snow around him had a few varied red splotches on it as some kind of animal had been vilely smeared across the landscape. Two large dark scarlet holes ripped through his winter coat and into his arm on his right side. On his hands, he only wore one glove... one glove.

Totem felt a wave of furry rippled through her soul. She didn't know that Velt had an ally before her, that Lindon had killed her. Even Velt didn't know that the killer had returned to the scene of the crime and taken the poor girl's supplies. She did know that Velt only had one glove when she found him though, that he seemed to be terrified of the prospect of running into other tributes. It wasn't hard to imagine why.

With an infuriated battle cry, Totem broke into a dead sprint, holding her sickle high as she prepared for an attack.

Lindon turned around at the sound. Upon seeing her, a homicidal grin twisted its way onto his face.

* * *

**A/N Ohhhh cliff hanger *evil smile*. So Totem or Lindon? Who do you think will live? **

**RIP Kyla, she was a different type of career, and of course worked as a pretty good conflict catalyst amongst their ranks for a good while. Everybody has their time though. Well, almost everybody.**

**We're down to the top 10 (Eros, Autumn, Kegan, Chateaux, Totem, Lindon, Raven, Lena, Velt, and Roland). Obviously that isn't going to last very long (cause either Totem or Lindon is dying very soon), but I'm going to put up another poll anyways. I want to know who you want to win(now that the choices have been narrowed down significantly). Again, just another fun poll; I've already picked the winner. I'll post the poll results in one of the next couple chapters. **

**Until next time.**


	32. Showdown

Totem Earhart (D6) and Lindon Lizar (D7)

* * *

_Crack!_

Totem brought her sickle down hard, aiming for Lindon's skull. He was prepared though, taking a step inwards and putting his good arm upwards to protect his head. The blade of her weapon overshot him, and the stick struck his arm heavily. Lindon took his knee and brought it upwards while she was vulnerable, striking Totem in the rib cage. With his other hand he wrapped his fingers around the stick of the sickle, giving it a good tug to draw it free.

Totem sunk to her knees, the wind exhaling from her lungs in a sudden lurch. She could feel Lindon trying to pull her weapon away from her, but she held fast. She knew the minute he got a hold of it, she would be done for. Forcing herself to grip the sickle harder she used her legs to thrust forwards, knocking Lindon back and onto the ground. With an angry yelp he let go of the sickle, throwing both hands back into the snow to slow his fall.

Totem gritted her teeth together as she felt the cold air blowing against the cut in her thigh. The bandage had fallen off of her leg yet again, and now her skin was exposed to the bitter frost. She had to make this fight quick before she started getting frostbite or something. Lunging forwards, Totem swung for Lindon's mid section. He wasn't ready for her, but in a last ditch effort, he managed to roll over. Totem's blade cut through his side, cutting a clean line of red in his skin.

Lindon snarled at her as he scampered to his feet. He didn't like how challenging a fight this was. He wasn't used to fighting fair, and never before had he been at a disadvantage. Both of his previous kills had been against unprepared weaklings. Totem was neither of these things. Not only was she obviously stronger than him, but she had a weapon. Hatred boiled inside of him as she started slashing at him. He backed up, fumbling away from her attacks.

Suddenly he felt his back hit a tree. There was nowhere left to run to. Totem lifted her scythe, ready to make the death bow...

Lindon let out a roar as he launched forwards, tackling Totem. The scythe whipped around, sticking into the tree, out of both of their reach as he brought the girl to the ground. They hit it hard with Totem taking the worst of the fall. She groaned as Lindon's knee dug into the cut on her leg. She needed him to get off of her.

Lindon felt a grin stretch onto his face as he recovered first. While Totem began to thrash underneath him, he targeted the first weak spot he saw. On her arm was a dirty bandage that was stained with dry blood. That target would do. Lindon didn't have any form of blade, but that didn't matter. He still had a weapon. Totem screamed as he sank his teeth into the wound Autumn had given her. It reopened quickly as Lindon's teeth opened new bloody indents in her arm. She brought up her other hand, socking him hard in the jaw, making him release her.

If there was one thing growing up with two rowdy older brothers taught her, it was how to throw a solid right hook.

Lindon saw stars as he fell off of his victim. His jaw throbbed as he blinked the red splotches out of his vision. Totem had vanished from the place she had just been lying. Where had she gone? She wasn't trying to run was she?

Suddenly he felt a hard kick in his side as Totem cracked one of his ribs. "You. Freaking. Asshole," Totem cried as she kicked him a second and a third time.

Lindon's eyes whipped around. What did she just call him? Nobody spoke to him that way. Did she even know who he was? Lindon didn't even have the breath to give a respectable battle cry as he limply rolled over, taking Totem's legs out from underneath her. Lindon took a few seconds to recover from the slight beating he had just taken as Totem began her attempt to get up.

Her arm screamed in protest as she tried to use it to rise to her feet. Blood dripped down onto her gloved hand, and she could feel the warmth of the liquid against her cold skin. the cut in her thigh had also opened up when she had fallen. The snow wasn't a good cushion for her fall. In a few ways it was worse than landing on concrete as the top was almost frozen solid. Every time she landed it felt like freezing cold glass was digging into her skin, leaving it numb and stinging.

Lindon had recovered well enough just as Totem had gotten to her hands and knees. He leaped upwards, throwing her back onto the ground as he dug his elbow in between her shoulder blades. She collapsed underneath his weight, and he went to finish the job. Wrapping his arm around her neck, Lindon began to squeeze hard. He imagined the Capitol cheering for him as the life slowly drained from Totem's body.

At first, he could feel her fingers clawing against the two gashes the Feline mutt had given him the other day. He welcomed the pain as he began squeezing her neck harder, laughing delightedly as she made a pathetic strangling sound in her throat. Then the fingers stopped digging into his arm, and her entire body started thrashing, attempting to throw him off all together.

Totem felt hot tears on her cheeks as her vision started to fade. After all of this, making it to the final ten, and killing that boy from Five, she wasn't going to win. She would never get to see her family again, never get to fly another hover craft. And she had gotten so close too. She saw the end coming closer as each day had passed. She was going to win! It was the way things had to be! But no, she was going to be strangled to death by some asshole from Seven.

Totem had never been a much of a cryer, but sobs racked through her, freezing midway down her face as she went limp. She wasn't ready to die. She wasn't ready to...

A cannon sounded in the distance and Lindon fell of the girl, a wide grin stretching across his face. He looked truly mad as he looked giddily to the sky. Totem's blood dripped from his teeth from when he had bitten her, running in droplets down his chin and staining his jacket even further. He could taste the iron on his tongue as he licked his teeth clean.

He had showed her. He was the champion- the undefeatable Lindon Lizar. Sure he had been wounded pretty badly, at first look he knew his side had been badly bruised, and he possibly had a broken rib, but he had won.

Swaying to his feet, Lindon looked to the tree he had been backed up against just moments earlier. Totem's scythe was still buried deep into its bark. Gripping the handle, he jerked it free, feeling the weight of it in his hands. Oh yes, this had been better than just winning. Now Lindon had a weapon. He was armed and dangerous. He had killed three tributes now, and he couldn't wait to kill more.

* * *

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), and Chateaux Masona (D3)

* * *

Eros groggily woke up from his easy sleep, feeling like a king. He swung into the upright position sniffing the air. He could smell the fire easily, but unlike some of the previous days, it was missing the smell of food.

"Kyla, have you started cooking yet," he grumbled blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the daylight. He looked around, seeing Kegan watching him with his arms crossed moodily.

"Kyla died last night," he said, his jaw clenching as he glared to his left. Eros suddenly was very awake.

"What?" he asked. He tried to think of the previous night, looking for a signal of her death. Autumn, Kegan, and he had stayed up until sundown waiting for Kyla to return with Chateaux, but Eros had been feeling a bit drowsy, so he had excused himself to go to sleep. He had yet to take a night watch, as he thought himself above such menial jobs, being the leader of the group and all, and assumed that Kegan and Autumn would figure out the schedule with the other two girls when they got back. He had slept straight through the anthem, and well into morning, but he hadn't thought anything of it.

There had only been one cannon sound that day. They had all assumed that the other half of their alliance had found somebody. If one of their own had died, there would have been two cannons as Eros had assumed that either they'd both die together or one of them would have killed the aggressor. One cannon on its own was nothing to be concerned about.

"Chateaux won't tell me what happened," Kegan went on, his upper lip twitching into a annoyed scowl.

"Wake up Autumn," Eros commanded. Kegan looked over and kicked the sleeping lump that was the girl from One. She awoke with a start, looking around in a hazy daze. Eros didn't wait for her to register what was going on. Looking towards the fire, he saw Chateaux slim figure gazing into the flames, relaxed.

"Chateaux dear," Eros said, a dangerous sweetness in his voice. "Mind telling me what happened. Why is Kyla dead, and why don't you have somebody's body to show for yourself?"

"Eros dear," Chateaux mocked his tone. "The boy from Nine stuck her in the gut, and I didn't _feel_ like killing him. I'm sure you know the feeling."

They gaped at her, not comprehending what she said. "You infernal imbecile," Kegan was the first to speak. His entire face turned bright red as he leaped to his feet, yelling at her. "You simply allowed another tribute to waltz away from you? Are you not aware of what these Games are? I don't care what sort of moronic whim had so seized your conscious that you didn't _feel _like killing him. Do you know what happens to the dunces who show that kind of foolish mercy? They die because they have no place fighting in these Games."

Chateax cut off her District partner mid-speech as she brought her sword to his throat in a quick flash. "I _really_ don't appreciate that Kegan," she said, her eyes flashing with danger.

Fury flared in Kegan's eyes. "So eager to get to this point are you?" he growled. This had been coming, he knew it. Chateaux hated him, and he hated her. It was destined that they were going to kill each other.

Both Eros and Autumn just stood to the side, completely stunned at the scene that was unfolding before them. Neither of them had ever seen such... passion explode from Kegan. They didn't think he was capable of it. He was simply the grumpy brainiac who always seemed as if he never wanted to be there. They didn't know about the years of hatred that had been bubling inside the boy. In fact, they didn't know anything about him.

"Now let me set things straight," Chateaux said calmly. "I didn't let that kid go because I was growing soft, or because I have some kind of problem with slitting people's throats. I did it for two reasons. First off, Kyla didn't deserve to be here anyway. Like you said, spineless careers have no place here. Second off, I felt like pissing off my mom today. It had nothing to do with me, and it definitely had nothing to do with you. Now, I don't really want to kill you either right now. It's too early. That doesn't mean I won't. So get over yourself Kegan. I have more important people to murder than you."

She lowered her sword, leaving the smoldering Kegan silent. Turning back to the fire, she sat down, holding her hands out for warmth as she let out an annoyed sigh.

"And when will that time be?" Kegan asked as he glared at her. "This alliance isn't going to last for very much longer."

"I don't know Kegan," Chateaux rolled her eyes. "It will come when it comes. If I were you though, I'd be praying that we put that off as long as possible, because you're going to be the first to go."

Autumn and Eros exchanged glances. It appeared that District Two possibly had more issues than they did, and they were both shocked. Clearing her throat, Autumn spoke. "When we finish off the boy from Eight. It has to be after then. He has always been the biggest threat. We've let him live too long as it is."

"Sounds as good a time as any," Chateaux shrugged.

Eros frowned. He didn't like this kind of talk. He knew that he would fare much better if the alliance stayed together. He wasn't cut out for the laborious task of survival. While his four remaining allies weren't exactly his best friends, he needed them to cook him food and take the night watches. No, he didn't like this conversation at all.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now. I mean, we've still got plenty of time before we go making that decision. There's still ten left, we're not even in the majority or anything," he said.

"Nine," Kegan corrected. "There was another cannon about an hour or so after the anthem last night.

"Whatever," Eros shook his head. "Let's go put Eight's head on a stick, then maybe we can kill off a few more before we start being too hasty about breaking up."

Chateaux smirked. "Eros? Not being hasty? I've never heard of such a thing," she joked.

He grinned devilishly at her. "Oh please, don't flatter me," he said.

Autumn looked at the sky quietly. "You guys want to go out now and hunt for Eight? All of us?" she asked.

Kegan's head jerked upwards, a look of alarm written in his features. "What about the supplies?" he inquired immediately.

"Eight has at least two other tributes traveling with him, assuming they haven't split up yet. I'd rather go into that fight with the numbers on our side, even if it means sacrificing an apple or two to one of the other loner tributes. I mean, if you want to stay back like yesterday, that's fine too."

Kegan considered this for a moment before nodding. He respected her train of thought. Prioritizing winning fights over supplies wasn't such a bad idea now that the playing field was becoming smaller. "Let's go find Eight then," he said.

With that the four of them took to the woods, picking out a careful trail that would eventually lead them towards the animal side of the forest, then afterwards.

* * *

Raven Textan (D8)

* * *

Raven stood on top of a large rock, gazing out over the treacherous landscape. The wind howled through the trees, pulling up a cloud of fallen snowflakes into its strong grasp. The sky was once again coated with a thick layer of bubbling black clouds. Visibility was low, and if he stood in the right direction, he could feel drops of icy snow stinging his face as the wind battered him harshly. He could taste the danger in the air

It was day six now, and he and his allies hadn't even seen one fight. No, they had been living like kings in their cave, the biggest of their worries being what kind of soup they should ask for dinner each night. He was beginning to get leery. Every night he watched the sky, seeing the faces of the dead with knots in his stomach. In training the gamemakers had made him target number one with his score of eleven, yet he felt as if he might as well have gotten a one.

But he knew better. The careers had not forgotten him. On the contrary, he had no doubt that his face consumed their every waking thought. He could feel the anticipation in the bitter cold air. A storm was coming. The only question was, would he be able to face it?

* * *

**A/N: So this was a bit of a shorter chapter. RIP Totem, she did really well in the Games. I considered her as a winner several times when I was trying to decide the order of the deaths, but Lindon needed some more blood to spill. That makes kill number three for him by the by. He officially has the most kills out of all of the tributes, beating every single one of the careers. Not that they have any clue of course. The only living tribute that actually sees him as a threat is probably Velt (Lindon doesn't intimidate anybody right? *insert sarcasm here*), and I don't picture Eros asking him for any insight into the competition any time soon. **

**I'm leaving the poll up for another couple of days. I know that now Totem's kind of dead, but don't let that stop you from voting for her if you really wanted her to win. It's on my profile, so if you haven't voted yet, go vote. **


	33. Falling

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), and Chateaux Masona (D2)

* * *

The clouds began to roll around midnight. The black smokey puffs that had thoroughly coated the air began to churn, spitting out snow and throwing it around in the air like white dust in a tornado. The wind ripped savagely at their faces, making it impossible to keep their hoods up, and the cold bit at all exposed skin. The temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees since the first day. It was as if the arena had become alive in the night. They were in the depths of a giant shadow now, and every lurking crevice was craving blood.

Yet the careers forged on. They had left the Cornucopia the previous day without any form of protection, but it didn't seem like that would be a problem. The weather would keep all the other tributes hiding in the safety of their caves. Nobody would dare take the tedious journey to the Cornucopia in this blizzard. They had no doubt that they were the only ones brave enough to venture out in these conditions. Luck was on their side though, they were sure of it. After all, they had seen Totem's face in the sky the previous night. The vision of her features amongst the clouds made them almost giddy with joy. It was like a gift from the Head Gamemaker himself.

"I wonder who killed her," Kegan had muttered. He had been the only one who didn't celebrate immediately. He was acutely aware that anyone capable of bringing about her death was an even greater threat to them than Totem herself was.

"I bet Autumn did," Eros brushed off. "She probably bled to death slowly, and she deserved it, after stealing our stuff." Autumn frowned, aware that she hadn't injured her old opponent enough to actually kill her, but she didn't speak up about it. It was much better to have Eros in a good mood than in a bad one.

Around one in the morning the group took a break under the shelter of a particularly thick group of trees. Autumn slung her pack off of her shoulders and spilled the few supplies they had brought onto the floor- two sleeping bags, some food, and seven of their remaining hot packs. Eagerly the four grabbed up what they wanted, not thinking about the future. Hopefully the Games would be short enough that their supplies wouldn't run out.

After everyone had taken their fair share of food, both Kegan and Chateaux reached to take their second heat pack. They hadn't thought about it at the time, but seven wasn't divisible by four, so somebody would have to go with only one pack of the warming gel. Nobody wanted that unlucky person. Chateaux quickly batted Kegan's hand away.

"It's mine," she growled, a superior look in her eyes.

"Don't be supercilious, you got the extra piece of jerky yesterday," Kegan retorted angrily. Chateaux narrowed her eyes at him, as she didn't understand the meaning of that adjective.

"I said back off," Chateaux said dangerously.

"I said no," Kegan responded, pushing his dirty glasses further up his nose.

Chateaux's lip curled irritably. Then she suddenly remembered something: a little fact that she was never supposed to know. "Only real careers deserve supplies," she sneered.

"And what am I? Transparent?" Kegan cried incredulously.

"No, but don't lie," she replied quietly, her eyes scanning him like a predator. "You're not here for the same reasons the rest of us are. If I heard correctly, Brody was supposed to be the one here, not you. I heard you groveled on the ground when you begged him to let you come early."

Kegan's felt his entire face turn red as he looked over at Autumn and Eros nervously. They weren't paying attention, thankfully. Nobody was supposed to know about that. Brody had promised to keep it in between the two of them. Not that he was surprised though. Brody was dating Chateaux's queen bee Chloe. Kegan could still remember that day like a bruise in the back of his mind.

He had just found out that his father was going to sell his sister, Chastel. That very day he had ran over to the young Brody Auger's house and pleaded with the boy to wait a year to volunteer. It wasn't his most shining moment, but he had gotten what he wanted. Now Chastel was safe, that's all that mattered in the end.

"Just keep it to yourself," Kegan muttered, drawing away from the heat pack. "I'm not materialistic enough to need it anyway."

Chateaux eyes darkened, and her expression became unreadable. She stared at the heat pack for a minute, glancing up towards Kegan every once in a while. "Fine," she snapped after a moment, snatching it up in her hands. Kegan stared at his District partner for a moment, confused. Was that guilt he saw in her eyes?

* * *

Velt Ganger (D9)

* * *

Velt woke up the following morning to find that it was so dark outside, it might as well have been night time. The tracks he had marked up outside of his cave when traveling the night before had completely vanished as a new coat of fresh snow had savagely suffocated them in the wild blizzard that was raging outside. He shrunk back into the depths of his hide out. After Chateaux had nearly killed him the other day, he had ran along side of the mountain for a good while before finding a new, smaller cave to hide it. Now he was safe and hidden from both the weather and the careers.

That was the good news. The bad news was that he had seen Totem's face in the sky the previous night.

He didn't sob like he did when Belle died. He had wanted to, but he didn't. Things were different this time. He knew that this would happen eventually if he wanted to win, that was the point in them splitting up, so that they wouldn't have to see each other die. When he saw her face in the sky, he hadn't been shocked. His stomach had dropped like a weighted stone had suddenly been yanked towards the earth inside of him, and he had dropped to his knees on the ground. Putting his hand to his heart, Velt had closed his eyes and silently took a moment to remember Totem, thinking of all the good things that she had done for him.

At first, the grief felt unbearable, but as the night had worn on, it waned, a horrible numb emptiness taking its place. He didn't have the tears left in him to cry. They had frozen in the back of his eye lids, just as the rest of the world seemed to be encapsulated by one huge snowy ice-cube. Perhaps if he won, then one day he would cry for Totem, but that day wasn't now. In truth, only those who felt safe really cried. That taste of certain death seemed to suspend even grief itself.

Suddenly, a beeping noise sounded outside of Velt's cave. Running towards the sound, Velt saw nothing at first. The visibility was so incredibly low, he was surprised he could see his own hand in front of his face. After a minute of waiting, he decided to just follow the noise. With his ears as guidance, Velt climbed outside and over to a cluster of snow covered lumps on the ground. Sitting on top of them was a small parachute.

The biggest most elated grin stretched across his face as he tore the parachute off of the canister like a five year old on Christmas day. Popping open the lid, he peered inside. He pulled out a small dirty round ball, about the size of an apple. It had dirt all over it, and some odd lumpy stitches traveling around one side. Suddenly, Velt felt like crying again. It was the ball that Nole taught him to play catch with. Attached to the parachute was a small white note. _Keep trekking kid, you've got yourself a fan or two back at home- R._

The note was from his mentor, but he didn't even care. Clutching the ball to his chest, he scurried back into his cave. Nothing would ever be more mean more to him than holding that little piece from home in his hands.

* * *

Raven Textan (D8), Lena Reyna (D8), Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

Raven and Roland were trotting about a mile away from their cave when they heard the sounds. It was just an echo on the wind really, a single deep musical note that traveled like a ghost to their ears. Still it made them both freeze. They didn't know all of their remaining competition that well, but there was no forgetting Eros's razor sharp laugh. Roland immediately turned, ready to run. He could feel panic rising in his chest. This was supposed to just be a standard patrol, so he had left his beloved rope at home. Suddenly he could feel its absence like a stabbing dagger in his heart.

"Wait," Raven said quietly, grabbing his friend's arm. The boy from Eight was quite like Autumn in that he was never one to lose his head. No, even now, he was in complete control. It had a settling effect on Roland, who trusted Raven much in the same way that a blind sheep would trust its shepard. "Let's check it out."

Raven and Roland waded silently through a patch of deep snow as they walked in a round about way towards the sound. As they got closer, it became obvious beyond any form of doubt that indeed the careers were close; however, as Raven had luckily guessed, they had yet to begin moving. Using the heavy storm and the snow as cover, the two boys flattened themselves on the ground as they peered through the down pour of white flakes towards the hazy outline of the four remaining careers.

Eros was the only one standing as he laughed away at his comrades. It appeared that he was being loud on purpose, as to wake the other three up. Raven smiled at his luck. It would take another half an hour before they actually began moving. He had time.

"Back to the cave," he muttered.

It took the two a full twenty minutes to make it back to the cave, where Lena was munching on a piece of dried turkey. "The careers," Roland wheezed as he scooped up his rope. "They're coming."

"Pack up the stuff," Raven ordered as he began to frantically throw silver sponsor canisters to the corner, only keeping smaller ones that he would use to store some of their supplies. The rest of the empty canisters that they weren't going to be able to carry were thrown into a neat pile outside the mouth of the cave. With some luck, the blizzard will have buried them by the time the careers arrived. Raven didn't want them to know how well his alliance had been doing so far.

The air of dread was unmistakable. Up until that day, the three of them had been floating on a cloud, too high for the sorrow of other's to reach. The careers were climbing their mountain now, with bloodied sharp daggers in hand. They breathed the color crimson, and thrived on other's pain. It appeared that their cloud was casting them off now, in the form of icy frigid snow.

After another twenty minutes, everything was in packs, and it looked as if they'd never set foot in the cave. They'd even taken care to cover up the fire pit, spreading the dusty ashes in the shadows. Raven tapped his foot impatiently.

"Let's go," he muttered urgently.

Lena walked out of the cave first, her blonde hair billowing backwards in the wind. The visibility was horrid outside. She couldn't even see the forest in the distance anymore. It appeared that the storm clouds had descended upon them, clouding up everything both above and below their feet. She squinted as she looked around for a trail of treaded snow they had marked up in case they needed a quick escape. That was when heard them.

There was no face to the excited voices that blew by them on the wind. The careers were caught up somewhere in the vicious dust cloud of snow, but they were alarmingly close. She knew that much.

"Raven, they're here," she whispered, her voice panicked. Roland's head lifted up in horror towards the sound of the voices. It appeared that they had miscalculated how long the careers would hang around camp before taking off to continue hunting in this weather. Only Raven remained calm. He already knew what his fate was. He had always said coming into this: a career could not win this.

"Go," he said, turning to Roland and clasping his arm. "You go now and get away."

Roland looked back at him in horror. "You're asking to die?" he protested hoarsely in confusion.

"I'm asking for you to live," he corrected. He lifted his hand towards the rumbling black sky. "They think they're gods you know, that they control the world. Well they don't control me. I never said I would play their Games by their rules. If I decide that I'm going to die, it's my choice. But I need somebody respectable to live, got it? Now I'm going to stay here and fight off all four careers, and you're going to run. Don't worry, they won't follow you."

Lena gaped at her District partner. "You don't even have a weapon," she said, her face mimicking Roland's.

In that moment, his eyes sparkled with something incredibly unique, something that was purely Raven. It made her pause, and for a second, Lena wondered if this kind of sacrifice was something he had planned all along. "Not all weapons come with sharp points Lena," he said, a grave smile flashing across his face.

* * *

Eros Cunningham (D1), Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Caption (D2), and Chateaux Masona (D2)

* * *

Eros saw Raven first, as the four of them followed a long trail of sloppy footprints in the snow. A wide grin ripped across his face as his he whipped his mace out, ready for a fight. It was Autumn who held him back. Something was very wrong with this situation. Raven watched them approach, his brilliant blue eyes glowing in the dark stormy light. He was sitting on a rock, about five feet above the ground, just to the left of a cave. There was no fear in his expression. On the contrary, he looked like a king, watching the lesser peasants of his country as he perched on his high throne. He wasn't quite arrogant, but he had an air of innocent divinity to him, like he was above all four of the careers.

"Why does he look so calm?" Autumn whispered below her breath, narrowing her eyes. Kegan frowned as he pushed his glasses up his nose. He couldn't agree more with Autumn's hesitancy.

Chateaux and Eros on the other hand were too impatient to deal with the other two at the moment. Chateaux was twirling her sword in her hand as she eyed Raven, and then of course Eros might as well have been drooling.

"Aren't you going to run away now?" Eros called over to Raven. "Because its much more fun when you run."

Raven smiled subtly, as if he expected nothing less of the burly District One career. "Actually, I had other plans," he responded.

"Do tell?" Chateaux interjected, looking bored.

"I saw the way you killed Oatis, you know," Raven said. Eros grinned at the memory. "It was mildly impressive."

"Mildly?" Eros muttered, looking annoyed.

"I thought I would like to test my own strength against you," Raven said, stretching his arms out. "We could have a fair fight, no weapons, just you and me, man to man. We both know I don't stand a chance against a mace. It'd hardly be fair, and you know, I'd think it borders on cowardly, facing your enemies while they are defenseless. I figured you might want to have some fun with this too. After all, I did score higher than you in training. You don't have to pretend that you're happy I showed you up. This could be your chance, to prove all of those gamemakers wrong."

Kegan frowned. Was there such a thing as a virtuous victor of the Hunger Games, he wondered.

Those were the only words that needed to be said, and he had Eros hooked. Just in the very same way Raven's words could convince even the most skeptical to follow him as a devoted leader, they could also inspire his enemies to give him a ridiculous advantage. He knew all of the correct buzz words to hit, and suddenly, Eros was completely taken with the idea of a one on one wrestling match to the death.

Dropping his mace, Eros dropped into a crouch. "Bring it on tough guy," he grinned.

"Eros this is a bad idea," Autumn said bluntly, her watchful eyes studying her District partner anxiously.

"Shut up Autumn. I've got this," Eros barked back. Raven jumped off his rock, onto the level path way, and put his hands up in front of his face, boxer style.

"Let him do it," Chateaux muttered. "If he dies, we'll just stick Eight after the fight, and if he beats him, which he will, then no harm done."

It was too late to stop things now though. Eros and Raven were already circling each other dangerously, each with their hands up in front of their faces, as they jumped around on the balls of their feet. For the first few seconds no progress was made. Eros shot a few jabs at Raven, and Raven shot a few jabs at Eros, but every punch was dodged. Eros was the one to land the first hit. He brought his fist forwards as if to go for the right hook, then quickly spun around, bringing his foot up and cracking it against Raven's side.

The boy from Eight stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his feet before regaining his balance. By this point though, Eros had advanced further towards him, landing two quick upper cuts cleanly in Raven's stomach. He laughed out loud as Raven bent over, coughing up a few drops of blood.

"Honestly, an eleven?" Eros laughed. "Have you ever even had a good old fashion fist fight before, pretty boy?"

Raven didn't respond. Instead when Eros went to kicking him in the head, he bended backwards, dodging it, and taking a few steps away from his enemy. Eros tried to land two more jabs, each one missing, as Raven backed further away, stumbling down the path way a solid ten feet.

"Running so soon?" Eros taunted. Raven grunted, throwing his fist up towards Eros's head. The blow was blocked easily and Eros socked Raven in the mouth. A sickening cracking noise ripped through the air as Raven's nose broke. With a cry of pain, Raven fell backwards, his hands going up to his face to find blood trickling onto his fingers. Gritting his teeth together, he forced himself to crawl even further down the path as Eros barreled forwards. With every inch of ground he covered, the sound of the wind began to get louder as it howled more powerfully in his ears.

"Finish it Eros, this is boring," Chateaux called from behind.

Eros grinned all too happy to oblige. He darted forwards landing on top of Raven, and began to punch his enemy silly. Right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand. Meanwhile, Raven fought to push his opponent off of him; although with each second that past, his awful beating began to take an even greater toll on him. When Eros hit him again with his right fist, Raven looked desperately ahead. Was he close enough?

He was.

The two boys were no longer surrounded by a solid plane of pure white snow. A few feet above Raven's head, the land dropped off into a steep rocky cliff. Wind howled as it ripped upwards from the ground, so many feet below. Of course, Raven couldn't even see the hill that sloped down at the bottom of the precipice. The black clouds had rumbled down into it, fogging it up so that it looked like a bottomless abyss. Icy droplets pelted down from the sky as Eros delivered another punch.

Suddenly, the boy from Eight broke into a wild grin.

"What's so funny?" Eros growled as his fist descended another time. Raven looked Eros hard in the eye, and spat a mouthful of blood straight into the other boy's face. Eros recoiled one hand to wipe his eyes, and in that moment of vulnerability, Raven sat up right, wrapping his arms tightly around the other boy's torso.

"This is why I got an eleven," he whispered in a deep dangerous voice.

And with that, Autumn, Kegan, and Chateuax, watched as the two warriors plunged off the edge of the cliff.

With her mouth dropping open, Autumn rushed forwards to where the two teenage boys had been fighting just moments ago. The snow was freshly indented there from the weight of their bodies. She hadn't even seen the precipice from the spot she was standing moments earlier. Everything around them was just one blur of white flurries and grey cloud. A subtle skid mark of a trail marked the exact place the boys had fallen.

Peering over the edge, Autumn searched for a sign of their broken bodies, but the ground wasn't even visible. Either they were too high up, or the storm was simply too powerful for them to see.

_Boom, _the cannon pounded.

"One," Chateaux counted aloud. They waited for a moment, then another moment.

"Where's the second cannon?" Autumn asked quietly.

"It's not coming," Kegan answered gravely. "Depending on how high the drop was, and how much of a snow cushion there is at the bottom, it's highly plausible that one of them might have survived."

He was silent as he let his words sink in. It was Chateaux that asked the question that was on all of their minds:

"So then, which one is still alive?"

* * *

**A/N Ba da da dum, ba ba ba bummmmmmm. Cliffhanger! Gotta love them, I think they're possibly my favorite way to end a chapter. So somebody's dead. The question is who is somebody? Any thoughts? **

**By the by, I've got the results of the latest poll (for who you guys want to win):**

**We have a tie for 1st place with Autumn and Totem(awkward moment when Totem's already dead...). Each of them has 3 votes.**

**In second place we have Velt and Lena with 2 votes each**

**In third we have Eros, Kegan, and Roland. Each with 1 vote. **

**I'm pretty surprised with this actually. Raven won the first poll, but he, Chateaux, and Lindon all got no votes. (Okay, maybe Lindon isn't all that surprising). Interesting... **

**So any who, until next time. **


	34. Loss

Raven Textan (D8)

* * *

For a moment, he felt like he was flying. The world around him seemed suspended as the sky started to move farther away from him. Almost immediately, he had separated from Eros. He had made a point to push himself off of the burly career. He knew that if they landed on top of each other they'd both die. After that, all that was left to do was relax. The snow flakes that had just moments ago seemed to be violently pelting the ground seemed slower and gentle now that he was falling with them. He reached forwards, as if to grasp one of them.

Pain. Horrible excruciating pain.

He dug his teeth into his bottom lip as he tried not to scream. He could taste metallic blood in his mouth as his teeth broke the skin. A strangled deep cry escaped from his throat. He felt as if he had been picked up and placed onto a scalding metal pan. Every single inch of him felt like it burned. His left arm was the worst though. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he had heard it snap. A million needles and daggers seemed to have stabbed the arm all at once, searing him from the bone out.

Hot tears stung at his eyes as he tried to fight the pain. The worst part was that he was alive. Death would have been the easy thing to do, there would not have been this kind of agony on the other side. He wasn't dead though. His heart was beating stronger than ever. There would be no escaping this living torture. Not yet at least.

He didn't know how long he lied there before he dared to move. At first, it wasn't even a question of choice. His body was in misery. There would be no moving. Slowly the pain started to recede though. The initial shock of the impact wore off soon enough. The burning subsided into dull soreness. It helped that he was lying on a sheet of fresh snow. The chill of the wet ground was quickly seeping into his skin, making him go numb. Normally he would be worried, but numbness meant an end to the pain. He slowly bent his knees, finding that both of his legs seemed to be okay.

"Eros!" a voice suddenly called from above.

Raven froze. The top of the cliff wasn't visible through the blizzard, so they weren't going to see him. That wasn't what concerned him. Slowly turning his head, he looked to his left. The good news was that his neck seemed to be fine. The bad news was that Eros wasn't there. Gradually, he looked to his right.

"Oh my god," he cried shocked. Immediately he whipped his head back around, and rolled over ignoring the excruciating pain that shot up his left arm. Using his other arm to prop himself up, Raven began to promptly empty his stomach. Puking his breakfast into the snow. He groaned, wiping his mouth off and closed his eyes for a second to collect himself. It didn't matter though, the image seemed to be plastered onto the inside of his eyelids too.

Eros hadn't been as luck as Raven during the fall. He appeared to have hit the cliffs on the way down because his body was battered. Cuts and bruises decorated his corpse. He was lying on his back, his eyes open wide as they stared at the sky without seeing. His jacket had been completely mangled by the side of the cliff. It clung to Eros like a rag that wasn't quite ready to disintegrate completely. Protruding from the very center of his chest was a grotesque pointed scarlet rock. He had been impaled.

Raven shuddered as tears began to run down his face again. This time he wasn't even sure why he was crying. He just knew that he wanted to go home. But he couldn't, not yet.

Rolling back onto his back, Raven carefully looked over at his left arm, ready to assess what appeared to be the worst of his injuries. His stomach threatened to upheave again as he found that his arm had twisted backwards like the broken limb of a doll, resting on an unnatural angle. He set his jaw, knowing what he would have to do. Gingerly, he reached over and gently ran his fingers over the newly acquired joint in his forearm. Immediately he could feel a shot of agony run through the injury. He winced. The closing his eyes, he grabbed his other hand.

"One. Two. Three." He pulled his left arm back to its natural position, howling in pain as he did so. For a moment his vision blurred and he began to feel light-headed. He laid down in the snow and stopped moving as he carefully controlled his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The pain subsided eventually, and he when he deemed himself well enough, he continued working.

In the right pocket of his jacket was the cloth from one of the parachutes he had been sponsored. Quickly, he took it out and shook the fabric open. Carefully, he tied a sling around his broken limb. It took him several minutes, but thankfully, he got it done.

Sighing, Raven sat up. There was only one last thing to do. He had to get away from the mountain as soon as possible. The remaining careers were probably already retracing their steps back to see if their ally was still alive. He needed to be long gone by the time they got here. It wasn't as easy as it sounded though. Despite the fact that he was technically in walking condition, he felt exhausted and sore.

He hadn't even bothered to touch his face yet, he knew that he probably already had two black eyes and a swollen lip forming. And that was if he was lucky. His face would most likely be covered in black, blues, and purples soon enough. Oh, and his nose was broken too. Reaching up, Raven brought his fingers to his upper lip, drawing them away to find blood. He hadn't even realized that the red sticky liquid was still running freely from his nose. Now that he was paying attention to it though, his face was indeed throbbing. Picking up a clump of snow, he pressed it up against his nose, welcoming the searing numbness that followed. hopefully that would stop the bleeding eventually.

Eros had him beat. There had been no chance of him winning that fight. It was a wonder that Oatis had lived so long during his wrestling match with the career earlier in the Games. Raven had never met such a vicious and talented fighter.

On top of all that, his entire body ached from the fall. Really, he just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. He was completely exhausted. Moving wasn't a choice though; it was a matter of life and death.

So Raven rose to his feet slowly, swinging his right arm out to keep his balance, and keeping the his sling-ridden arm close to his body, as not to jostle it. He felt unsteady, but then again, he was standing.

Raven took his first step forwards, keeping his feet spread far apart to try to keep his balance better. He paused then for a minute before lifting up the other foot and moving that one forwards. Ten steps later, he had relaxed a little. The initial vertigo was passing. He seemed to be well enough. Suddenly, a loud beeping noise rang in his ears. Raven looked up. He was quite used to the sound of parachutes by now.

His present landed a few yards in front of him, and he eagerly made his way over to it. It was relatively big. He wondered what it was, food, medicine, some kind of energizing pills, he could use any of those really. His face grew grave once he clicked open the package though. Laying inside of the silver case was a deadly sword. The thick silver blade was freshly polished and sharpened. He could see his reflection in it, and to say the least, he didn't look like the pretty rich boy anymore. The hilt was extremely decorative, with some kind of warrior pattern carved into it's brown wood. A white sheet of paper was resting on top of it.

He opened it up: _You need to get back to them now. You'll need this.- P__  
_

Raven felt his fingers go cold. Without even bothering to cover up the package, he grabbed the sword in his good hand and took off along the bottom of the mountain. If he jogged slowly, he could maintain a relatively fast pace. He received Paylor's message loud and clear. Lena and Roland were in trouble. He had to find them before it was too late.

* * *

Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Capiton (D2), Chateax Masona (D2)

* * *

"Eros!" Chateaux called curiously out into the storm. They waited for a response, but it didn't come. Chateaux paused for a moment. "I'm not calling for him again. He probably can't even hear me."

"Probably," Kegan muttered in agreement.

The three of them were silent for a moment. Autumn hadn't spoken since Raven and Eros had tumbled over the edge. Her eyes were glossed over and distant as she stared out into the grey abyss. Sterling didn't have a tribute to mentor anymore. She remembered what he had told her that night: _just don't break up the alliance until somebody has offed him. _It had seemed so much like light banter back then, but those words had taken up a new meaning now. The humor had vanished and they'd taken a new monstrous meaning. She wondered how Sterling had said them with such ease, after all, he had gone through the Games once too.

She sighed. Even if it was rotten of her to think it, this was a good thing for her. The alliance would be splitting up soon, she was sure of it. If that split was violent, then she having Eros present could be deadly. She doubted any of them would be able to beat him in a fight.

"Now what?" Chateaux said, bitingly.

"We should probably go wrap back around to go see who's dead," Kegan answered, shooting her an annoyed glance. She seemed exceptionally irritable.

"Pointless," Autumn answered quietly. "By the time we get down there, the hovercraft will have been long gone with the body, and if it is the boy from Eight that lived, he will have already gotten as far away from here as possible."

"And what if its Eros that lived," Chateaux asked. She took care to make sure she didn't sound concerned. It wasn't that she actually ever liked Eros or anything. No, he was a bit of a pig. It just felt sort of wrong to leave an ally alone to freeze to death at the bottom of a cliff. Of course, that could just be her being sentimental.

"Then he'll make his way back to the Cornucopia on his own. That's where he'd know he would be able to find food and supplies. If we just go back, we'll find out who's dead soon enough," Autumn said in a matter-of-fact voice. There was no refuting her argument. They all knew she was right. It might have been worth going down to check out the bottom of the cliff. The unspoken problem with that was their lack of supplies though. They hadn't planned to be away from their base for so long. They were already out of heat backs and food. All they really had left was two sleeping bags and a relatively empty pack. Every extra second they spent out on the mountain was another minute that they went with out any substance.

"Back to the Cornucopia then," Kegan muttered.

The two girls nodded, and with that the three began to move. An eerie silence fell upon them the minute they started moving. Eros's absence seemed to have sapped all of the conversation out of the group. Of course, they all were thinking about the same thing- the impending split. The agreement earlier had been that they would break apart when Raven was dead. Well, he very well might be now, but none of them mentioned it. Even bringing up the subject might cause some kind of irreversible catalyst to set things in motion. And though none of them would admit it, nobody was quite ready to say their last good byes to the small group of remaining careers.

* * *

Lena Reyna (D8) and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

"We're in the final eight now," Roland said shakily, his voice quaking.

The cannon had sounded about a half an hour ago, and neither of them had spoken a word since. They both knew what it meant- Raven was dead. They had no proof; his face hadn't appeared in the sky quite yet; but they knew. There had only been one cannon. For Raven to have lived, there needed to be a minimum of two cannons. There was no way that he could have killed just one career and gotten a way.

Lena's eyes flickered over to Roland, pain etched into her features as a single tear trailed down her face. "I can't believe he did that," she said hoarsely as she trembled.

Roland shook his head sadly. "I can," he said.

For a moment the two of them both fell silent. Roland was on the brink of tears, and Lena was letting the little water droplets flow freely from her eyes now. They were both sitting with their backs against two trees, facing each other. It was odd being back in the forest. The last time they had been in here was the day Layton had passed. It seemed like a millennium ago.

"I thought he was going to win," Lena sniffled, as she drew her legs to her chest. "He just always seemed so confident, and everybody liked him so much..."

Roland shook his head. "I joined 'cause he made me feel like I could win," he said. "You could call it a lot of things, like charisma 'n stuff, but that's what I liked about him. It makes sense now though. He made ya feel that way 'cause he never intended to win himself."

Lena nodded. It was true. Raven had that way about him that just made you feel special. It was why he was one of the most popular guys at school back at home. It was impossible not to like him.

"Hey Lena," Roland muttered.

"Yeah," she sniffled back.

"We should make a schedule or somethin'," he said weakly. "It will help."

She didn't question what he meant by that. After living with the boy for a week. It was impossible not to notice that his way of coping with things was to meticulously plan out the day. It made him feel like he had at least an ounce of control in this arena full of chaos.

"M'kay," she said. "Well, how about we start walking back to where those berries were in an hour."

Roland nodded as he twiddled with his rope. "We could make camp around there once we found them. We'd always have food with us then," he agreed. "So maybe we start moving in an hour, and then we make camp either when we find the berries again or when the anthem starts playing."

His voice cracked at the mention of the anthem. For a moment he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. His shoulders began shaking slightly as he started to speak again.

"We could use all of the parachute cloth to make a tent," he said as tears started to make their way down his cheeks.

"We should make the tent purple, with the berries," Lena suddenly interjected. "Ravens are purple."

Roland let out a squeak of a laugh at her comment. "'Cause tents are just like Raven," he said.

Lena smiled. "Just like him," she agreed. The two both started laughing suddenly. Tears ran down their faces as their noses started to run, and they just laughed. And in that moment, they were the spitting image of Grief.

* * *

Lindon Lizar (D7)

* * *

Lindon heard the laughing in the wind and spun towards the sound. He had been lying down in a patch of red stained snow as he clutched his sickle close to his face. He had just found some kind of ashy white bird and had viciously dismembered it with his new sickle, and had been feeling kind of tired. He ate the meat off the bird raw, not the least bit disgusted with its mangy texture, before lying down to take a quick nap. The sound of the laughter snapped Lindon upright though.

There were some tributes near-by.

With a crazy grin on his face, Lindon staggered to his feet. He had developed an odd sway to his walk over the last couple of days. The upright manipulative boy that had been reaped several weeks ago had completely vanished now. Lindon was being driven by instinct and instinct only.

It only took him a second to reach spot Roland and Lena. They were sitting in against two trees not even a quarter-mile away from him. The boy was holding a long length of rope in his hands, but other than that the two didn't appear to have any weapons. Lindon grinned this was too perfect.

Holding up his sickle, he began to stalk forwards, his eyes training on the girl. He would kill her first, quickly. Then he would turn to the boy. He hadn't killed any boys yet, and definitely not anybody who looked as physically imposing as Roland. He would make that kill slow and painful. He wanted to watch as he drained every drop of blood from the big burly boy's body. It would be the ultimate sign of power. Yes, that would suit him well.

Lindon walked through the trees, taking an odd round about way. He aligned himself so that'd he would have the best angle possible for girl.

Then, he moved into action.

Moving with incredible swiftness, Lindon darted forwards. The girl didn't even know what hit her. One minute she was sobbing and laughing with her friend. Then her eyes went wide as she saw Lindon coming at her with the scythe. Then she was dead. Lindon plunged his scythe forwards, lodging it into her skull, right in between her eyes. The cannon sounded immediately.

_Boom._

Roland jumped to his feet, the tears in his eyes cutting off as he registered what had just happened. "Lena," he roared in agony as he watched his last remaining friend perish in front of his eyes. His hands moved to his rope almost immediately. He had a lasso spinning above his head in a flash as he threw it forwards instinctively. It flew around Lindon's scythe, and Roland pulled.

The big circle in the rope shrank soundly around Lindon's weapon as Roland attempted to yank it out of his hands. Lindon shrieked as the pole began to slip from his grasp. For a moment the two fought for control of the weapon. Lindon was fighting a losing battle though. Roland was eons stronger than him. There was no way he'd ever be able to pull the rope from his grasp. Lindon didn't need to be strong though.

Stepping forwards, Lindon swung the scythe around, so it was parallel with the rope. He moved his hands so he was gripping it by the blade, ignoring the biting pain as the tip dug into his palm. He grinned as the knot slipped right off the bottom of the pole, leaving Roland with just a useless length of rope, and Lindon with the scythe.

This kill was going to be too easy.

* * *

Raven heard the boom of the cannon in the air, and immediately broke into a sprint. The words on Paylor's note ran through his mind as he moved. His friends needed his help, and they needed it now. Roland's voice rang through the air. "Lena!"

No.

Raven felt sick to his stomach again as he darted through the woods. He maneuvered through the trees as he kept his eyes trained on the ground. He had found the trail of footprints just fifteen minutes ago. He could only pray that he wasn't too late. Maybe that cannon was completely unrelated to his allies. Maybe the careers had decided to kill each other. Yes, maybe he wasn't too late.

In the distance, he saw two figures each pulling on one end of a rope. Suddenly one of them fell back, and the other rose a sickle over his head, ready to finish it. Raven suddenly let out a booming cry. He lifted his sword, ready brutally murder whoever was attacking his friends.

Lindon looked up, freezing as he saw Raven barreling towards him He looked like a sight with his blood-stained nose, bruised face, and broken arm. Yet he looked like a warrior. In his hand a silver blade glinted dangerously. Lindon's gut twisted. This was no longer a fight he could win.

Immediately Lindon bolted away, breaking through the forest in some unknown direction. He wasn't quite sure where he was going at first until shrubbery started to erupt from the ground. The cornucopia, he thought. There would be more blood to spill there.

Meanwhile behind him, Raven halted his charge. He knew he wasn't capable of catching the fleeing aggressor in his battered state. He turned to Roland, who was looking at Raven with his mouth open in utter shock. "Where's Lena," Raven demanded, his breaths coming in short ragged wisps.

Roland wasn't even capable of speaking anymore as he lifted a trembling finger upwards. Raven spun around, his eyes landing wildly on his District partner's body. A gaping hole was burrowed in between her eyes, and they could each see down through it, straight through her fractured skull to her damaged brain. The sword fell from his hand, and he was suddenly on his knees, staring at her body.

"No," he whispered. "No. No. No. No." Tears started to drip from his eyes as he dragged himself forwards until he was sitting beside her. He didn't know when he started screaming, just that he suddenly was. The echoes of his pain traveled upwards, resonating on the wind, before even they died in their own right.

* * *

**A/N: Whew, big chapter there. RIP Eros and Lena. **

**Eros was kind of like the classic career for me. He was loud, thought he was all that, and may have been the best fighter in these Games. Planning out his death wasn't easy because he would never have lost a stair fight. But you know jumping off a cliff isn't really fair per se. I'll miss him**

**Lena was sort of the perfect District partner for Raven. She was quiet and timid but at the same time she had a real talent for the arts. She was never going to win though because she just doesn't that sort of vicious edge to her that most victors have. **

**Any who we are down to the final 7. I sense the end coming soon, like maybe in 3 chapters or so... **

**Until next time.**


	35. A Demon's Fate

Lindon Lizar (D7)

* * *

Lindon stumbled into the large clearing to find the icy white Cornucopia gracefully winding out of the freshly powdered ground. The storm had settled for the moment, as the frosty wind had subsided into a gentle frigid breeze that carried a few late coming flurries floating down from the sky. The clouds were still a smokey black though, a sign that the storm had not yet passed.

To his dismay, the scene was devoid of life. The careers must still be out hunting for the day. He did remember hearing a cannon fire earlier. That was probably from them. They would be back though, he was sure of it. Walking over to the mouth of the big ice structure, Lindon found the career's stockpile of goodies. About half of mound of crates and bags were full of empty wrappers and food remains. The rest was still chocked full of preservable jerky, crackers, fruit, sleeping bags, heat packs, and more. The gamemakers had truly made sure that this year's tributes wouldn't be starving. At least, if they were part of the career pack. There was enough food here to last another couple of weeks.

Plopping down in the snow, Lindon began to dig through the huge mound of supplies, picking out whatever suited his fancy. Twenty minutes later, he was feeling like his royal self again with a proper full stomach.

Looking around, Lindon swayed into the deeper part of the mammoth horn, making his way towards the back where the careers had shoved all the supplies they weren't using. An elated grin spread across his face as he surveyed the space. A pile of weaponry that was about as high as Lindon's waist sat on the ground. Serated knives, spears, bows, swords, maces, and more had been gathered back here. Every sort of sharp tool that a serial killer could possibly want had been stashed back there.

Lindon quickly dropped his scythe and began to rummage through the pile, looking for something worthy of a king like himself. Finally he settled on a two differently sized serrated blades. One was the size of a respectable sword. That one he would use for basic fighting. The other was more of a knife than a sword. It was much more suited for the other, more painful plans that he intended to inflict on his soon to be victims.

As he now had nothing else to do, Lindon leaned against the cool wall of the Cornucopia and sat down. He hadn't slept in a while, and his fight with Roland a couple of hours ago had drained him. At first, he tried to stay awake, telling himself the careers, his next quarry would return soon. But his drowsiness soon beat the small sliver of judgment that remained in his conscience, and soon the boy was dozing away.

* * *

Raven Textan (D8) and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

Roland reached down and put his hand on Raven's shoulder. Raven finished screaming for Lena fifteen minutes ago, but he had remained hunched over her body, his shoulders, quaking for a good time after words. Roland's eyes still had a few stray tears welling up inside of them, but he had cried himself empty for the day. They needed to get moving. The gamemakers would want them to get away from Lena's body already, and Roland felt like staying any longer was breaking some kind of unspoken schedule. He didn't break schedules.

"We need to go Raven," he said hoarsely.

Raven didn't move.

"Come on, before they send something to make us get away," Roland pestered.

"Do you know why they make us do this every year Roland?" Raven asked. His voice was quiet and calm. There was no sign of grief in its evenness. It appeared that Raven too had cried himself numb.

"'Cause of the rebellion?" Roland answered, unsure what Raven meant.

"A rebellion that happened sixty four years ago," Raven nodded, as he rose to his feet. His hands were still trembling as he shakily wiped the tears from his cheeks before they could freeze there. "Something that we can't even remember because we weren't living, and our parents weren't living. Hell, I don't even think our grandparents were living, our life spans are so obnoxiously short in the Districts."

Roland felt his stomach twist nervously. He knew that Raven was prone to go off on these anti-Capitol rants. They were triggered usually when he was angry, and it was so obvious that right now he was livid. He had no doubt that the gamemakers had turned the cameras elsewhere already. Hopefully they just didn't read too much into this showing of rebellion because right now, every word Raven spoke could be another nail in their coffins.

"There isn't anything we can do about it," Roland muttered. "We're here, the Games are almost over. It's dangerous to be saying those things right now. Come on, let's get moving."

Raven wasn't finished yet. "Dangerous is it?" he bellowed, his features twisting. "Don't you get it. We shouldn't be here right now. Lena shouldn't be dead. She should be back home with that guy she mumbles about in her sleep. And Layton should be alive too, annoying his brothers back in District Five. You should be back on your ranch herding cattle and making schedules. I should be planning the next school event for the planning committee. We're only teenagers. Life's not supposed to be dangerous, not yet."

Roland felt a the injustice rolling through the air, but the fact remained: they were powerless. They had no control over their situation. Even if one of them were to win te Games, the other would have to die first. Their lives were over the minute they entered that alliance with each other because they didn't do it on the terms of the Games. They were friends. No, they were brothers, and in many ways, they were closer to each other than Roland could have ever been with his twin.

Hopeless. Things were so utterly hopeless.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Roland yelled back. "You talk about these things like they can be changed. Well they can't. The Games are going to happen again next year, and the year after that. They've got the next fifty quarter quells planned out already you know. We're both already as good as dead. It's too late. Please, let's just try and do the best we can for these last few days. There isn't anything left we can do."

Raven frowned in bitter disgust, mostly because of how right his friend was. "Somebody out there can hear me," Raven muttered back. "You're wrong you know, everything can be changed."

Roland didn't respond. He simply hunched his shoulders as the two of them began to head away from Lena's fallen body, and into the trees.

* * *

Autumn Mistveil (D1), Kegan Caption (D2), and Chateaux Masona (D2)

* * *

The three tributes hurried their pace as darkness started to fall over the arena. They wanted to get back to the Cornucopia before the anthem started. That way they could be relaxed when they found out whether it was Eros or Raven who died plunging off the cliff earlier that day. They hadn't talked much the entire walk.

About mid way back, the tension had subsided to some degree. The biggest threat to their group coöperation was the trauma of losing a member, as it threw off the group dynamic and stability. The initial turbulence had passed though and they'd relaxed back into a new slightly different dynamic. This one didn't involve much talking. Autumn never actually talked much even when there had been seven of them, but now that Eros was gone, Chateaux and Kegan had quieted down as well. Without Eros, the only person they could talk to was each other, and clearly that wasn't an option.

Autumn couldn't stop thinking about Sterling the entire time. She had been trying to keep all thoughts of him out of her mind since the game had begun. It was a distraction that she couldn't afford to dwell on. Eros's death had broken her imaginary dam though. Now it seemed like every single idle contemplation that crossed her mind was accompanied by another side thought about what he might say if she mentioned the said thought to him. It didn't help that the amount of tributes left was dwindling. It meant that she could start thinking about the future, and what it might hold for them. It was all a silly amount of superficial worrying of course, but it nagged her none the less.

Chateaux was off in her own land, her thoughts wandering back to Chloe, Jamine, and Saily, her old friends. She knew that they were probably having mixed feelings about her right now. There was no way that Chloe had approved of her letting Velt go earlier. Somehow, she didn't quite care what they thought anymore though. It was an odd feeling. The entirety of her life had been consumed with being one of the popular girls, but after watching four of her allies die, the three girls didn't seem so important any more. Sometimes she wondered who would have risked more to help her, Chloe, Jamine and Sailey, or Foster, Kyla, and Roan. Somehow, she felt like she didn't want to know the answer.

And then there was Kegan. He was the only one who was completely emerged with thoughts of the Games. In his mind he kept replaying Raven and Eros's fall. It was ingenious really. He had no doubt that Raven had survived. Jumping off that cliff, he had every advantage. He knew the terrain at the bottom of the cliff, and he had the element of surprise. If he wasn't alive, then he truly was a fool. Kegan never expected his opponents to have that sort of wit about them. It made him realize just how ignorant he might be at the moment. It was so much easier to judge decisions back at home, when he had information from the perspective of every single tribute. He would have to be more vigilant if he wanted to survive these last few days. That would be the key to a victory.

In the distance, the trees began to thin. They didn't need to tell each other that they were home. Walking out into the clearing, the sight of the Cornucopia was like seeing heaven for the first time. Light smiles flew in the air as they broke into a light jog to the mound of food. They each dove in, taking no regard for rationing. It must have been morning the last time they had anything to eat, and none of them were used to starving.

"Hey Kegan," Chateaux called. Kegan looked up, his face already turned into a deep scowl. An apple suddenly hit him square in the forehead, causing Chateaux to practically collapse on the ground in laughter.

"Look who's feeling mature today," Kegan muttered with a deep frown as he rubbed his forehead. Really it was like she had chucked a solid rock at him because the apple was frozen solid. Autumn smiled slightly at them. Even with so few of them left, some things never changed.

"I'll grab the sleeping bags, we can wait for the anthem in them," Autumn said.

She worked her way towards the back of the pile, her eyes scanning the mass of clutter they had created. She didn't even notice the sleeping boy that was just five feet behind her. Grabbing the two bags they had left there, she walked back over to her allies.

"Got them," she said, tossing one each to Kegan and Chateaux. The one good thing about only having three of them left was that they didn't have to share bags anymore. Chateaux had been sharing with Eros, as they were the only two that had been able to tolerate each other in such close proximity. Neither of them were all that happy with those arrangements though. Chateaux constantly complained that Eros moved around too much in his sleep.

They each crawled into the wool bags and waited patiently for the sky to begin to sing. They were each the picture of relaxation, but the unseen tensions were ever present. Under their blankets, all there of them had weapons stashed carelessly close to their hands, just in case. About fifteen minutes later, the anthem began to blare.

In the depths of the Cornucopia, Lindon opened his eyes.

Outside, Autumn, Kegan, and Chateaux, watched as Eros's face appeared first. Nobody spoke as their faces turned grave. So he was dead after all. Kegan wasn't sure to be happy that Eros's looming threat was out of the way, or concerned that Raven was still out there somewhere. He settled on feeling mildly annoyed, as the emotion seemed to suit him so well lately.

Next, Lena's face appeared. Nobody was really paying attention by that time though. She was never a threat to them anyways. "He must be injured," Chateaux decided. "Nobody falls off a cliff like that without at least breaking something."

"Where you even paying attention to the fight?" Kegan asked irritated. "Of course he's injured, Eros beat him half to death."

In the mouth of the Cornucopia, Lindon crept forwards, his eyes trained on the three careers. He tightened his grip around the sword. Now the only question was who would die quickly, and who would he torture slowly to death.

"I don't think he was beaten that badly," Autumn muttered. "He broke his nose, but Eros was going easy on him. He'll be bruised, but really what we should hope for is that he has a concussion. I doubt it though. Eros was being too cocky."

"There are various levels of concussed. It is completely plausible that he might have something mild," Kegan brushed off. His father had a book about head injuries in the library back at home. He believed that he was seven when he first read it, so all of the fine details were fuzzy, but he still remembered the gist of it.

"You haven't seen Eros really beat somebody," Autumn said solemnly, her eyes growing distant at the memory. "A couple of years ago at the academy, a kid about two years younger than us ticked him off, so he challenged him to a spar off in the training center. That kid got out of the hospital two months later. What he did to Raven was nothing."

"There's no arguing with that," Chateaux said lightly, inadvertently telling Kegan to shut his mouth. She was tired after all of the walking that day, and just wanted to go to bed. "You have first watch Kegan."

Kegan didn't reply, as he'd learned not to argue with her about watch schedules, still he could feel rage boiling in his chest. She should be watching her back, because one day very soon, he was going to decide that she had told him what to do one to many times.

Lindon grinned as he made his decision. Raising his sword, he leaped forwards, and thrusted it downwards. Autumn's chestnut eyes looked up at the last second, just in time to register Lindon's face, before the blade plunged into her chest, killing her instantly.

_Boom_

Lindon pulled it out, taking a moment to pause and inhale the sweet smell of fresh blood in the air. His eyes flickered upwards, focusing in on the remaining two District Two tributes. The sight he found completely shocked him. Both Kegan and Chateaux were on their feet with weapons in their hands as they each prowled forwards. Lindon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't expected them to react so quickly. If they were like the other groups he had attacked, they would have frozen for a moment as they tried to register the reality of what just happened.

There was no grace period for the careers though. They had been trained since birth for this moment. The sight of blood didn't stun them, it sent them into action. Lindon had underestimated their training. It would be his downfall.

Kegan and Chateaux exchanged a glance as she slowly circled around Lindon, cutting off his escape route. Both of them were analyzing the boy, sizing up how much of a threat he was. Of course, what they both were seeing was his red stained snow gear. There was quite a bit of dried blood smeared across his body. How much of it was his? Kegan's mind raced through the past couple of days, counting all of the deaths they hadn't been present for. Terra, Belle, Layton, Totem, Colleen... how many of them had died at this boy's hand? Kegan had been right, the career pack had been unforgivably ignorant to their enemy's strengths over the past week or so.

Chateaux was wearing a silly grin across her face. She saw the dried blood as a good sign. She had been suffering from some nagging guit about the deaths of District Twelve since the first day. She would not be sorry for killing Lindon though. Not at all.

Lindon growled, holding his weapons up as the two tributes from District Two cornered him like a rabid animal. "Do you know who I am?" he roared.

Chateaux smiled sweetly. "We don't care honey," she smiled. Acting on a wave of rage, Lindon wheeled around, slashing forwards at Chateaux. Kegan took the opening and dashed forwards, his two knives. Chateaux ducked easily and drove her sword forwards.

The three blades all entered his body at the same time, tearing through it violently. He bellowed a wild tortured cry as he looked down, watching his blood seep through his already scarlet clothing, dripping down like raindrops into the snow. His features twisted into some hideous form of disbelief. He died hollering like a demon, not quite ready to return to Hell under the cover of the night.

_Boom_

Chateaux and Kegan both pulled their weapons out of the boy's body. An eerie silence fell over them as his body tumbled limply to the ground. Neither of them had even broken a sweat. They made eye contact at the same exact moment, holding each other's gaze. Kegan moved first, flying forwards at Chateaux with his knives. The final string that had been keeping them civil with each other had snapped. He wasn't going to be the fool who clung to a dead alliance until his own cannon sounded.

Chateaux brought her sword up, blocking one of his daggers and holding both of their blades locked together in the air. An annoyed frown had settled onto her face as she reached out and caught Kegan's other hand by the wrist. The two were effectively locked into stillness, each waiting for the other's muscles to fail.

"It doesn't have to be like this you know," Chateaux snapped irritably, as a bead of sweat ran down her temple. She bit her lip as she struggled to push Kegan away.

Kegan laughed openly at that. "All you've ever done is degrade me. You started this years ago. I said it on the train, and I'll say it now again. You asked for this," he snarled at her.

"And is this how you bring honor to your District? By killing your District partner? I never planned on killing you, you know," Chateaux retorted.

"I was never here to bring honor to my District," he growled. The thought of his sister strengthened him, and he pushed harder. Chateaux took a step back. Even if she was a better fighter, he was still stronger than her. "Anyway. I can't let you walk away from this alliance peacefully. I'm no fool."

"I never said we had to walk away from this at all," she replied, her lips twisting into a cruel smile. "If you stop attacking me, I'll stop attacking you."

Kegan didn't reply.

"We let go in, three... two... one." For some reason, Kegan backed off. Something in Chateaux's eyes had made him pause. Behind the crazy smile that was stretched across her lips, there was something that was completely and utterly un-Chateaux-like. She looked... scared. No that wasn't the right word. Chateaux didn't know fear. Maybe unwilling would be a better word. In that moment, he honestly believed that she didn't have the guts to kill him. It was completely unsound and illogical, but for once, Kegan just followed his gut. He simply knew.

Chateaux broke away at the same moment and took a few steps backwards for safe keeping. Her eyes were trained on Kegan, keeping a watchful eye on his knives. He could still throw them if he decided that he wanted her dead, but she had trained with the boy for years. She knew that he much preferred to fight close combat with his knives. He'd told the trainers a thousand times that throwing knives was wasteful and moronic.

"You have ten seconds. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," Kegan demanded.

"Do you know why most alliances break off?" Chateaux asked impatiently. Kegan stared at her. "Because either somebody thinks that their so-called friends are too much of a threat to keep them around any longer, so they need to off them early, or because the two tributes don't want to have to kill each other in the end. Well, I'm going to be quite honest. I have no problem slitting your throat. You're probably the most obnoxious person I've ever met. I think I've been looking forwards to sending your head rolling since day one. So to use words your incredibly dense head might understand. The second reason is invalid."

"But the first. The first might make sense. I know that you think very highly of my fighting abilities. I'm a pretty big threat for you, probably the biggest one left in the Games. Now, while I have no doubt that I can beat you in a fight. I'm not dumb. I won't come out with out at least one scratch. Then I'll be injured, the last career in the game, and I'll still have to hunt down that kid, and the boys from Eight and Ten all by my lonesome. I'd rather not fight those two boys alone and injured."

"What's your point?" Kegan pushed.

"Don't you get it. We're the perfect alliance to go all the way to the end together. All we have to do is go around, kill off the last three tributes, then we can have our fight. If we don't have a problem killing each other, then there is no reason to split up before everyone else is dead. It was different when Autumn was here. I actually liked her," Chateaux explained.

Kegan narrowed his eyes as he searched for the right question. Her logic was sensical, of course. If they stuck together, it would ensure them both a spot in the final showdown. But that would imply that she would be okay if he was the one who won. That didn't fit with the Chateaux he knew. "There is a flaw in your reasoning," he decided aloud. "Why would you want me in the final two. We both know that you don't want me to win."

"Unlike your traitorous self, I happen to be here because I'd like to honor my district and all that mushy crap. District Two needs to win this year, even if it means that it's you," she snapped, a little bit too quickly. Something nagged at Kegan's sub-conscience. She was lying; he knew it.

"I suppose I can wait another day," Kegan said carefully. His mind was on over drive. He was one hundred percent certain that what they were doing was unprecedented. There was no prior mistakes for him to judge whether it was an intelligent move or not. The lack of statistical data to support his decision bothered him to no end.

"Shake on it," Chateaux demanded, sticking her hand out. Kegan stuck his right knife into his belt and slowly approached her, keeping his left knife at the ready. Walking forwards, he gripped her hand firmly. The two locked eyes for a minute, sizing each other up just like they did the day they were reaped. With that, they both went to bed, neither of them making mention of setting up a watch schedule. Both felt safer sleeping without the other sitting perfectly alert while holding a weapon in their hand.

* * *

In the distance, several miles away from the Cornucopia, and up a winding snowy path. The vibrating face of the mountain, that had been discovered days ago by Raven, Lena, and Roland, started to come alive. It's gentle hum suddenly turned into a great powerful rumble. The giant oval shaped crease in the surface began to grow as a boulder was dragged downwards, disappearing into the ground. A new cave was revealed in its wake, one that was entirely different from those that were cut into the sides of the mountain around its base. This one had a cold metallic floor and steely blue lights hanging from the ceiling- a laboratory, just recently abandoned. Out of its depths, two mammoth silhouettes stepped outside, breathing in the cold air with glee. Their feet left colossal prints in the snow, the size of a small building, as they began their decent down the mountain, towards the waiting heartbeats of fresh flesh. Behind them, the mountain began to rumble once more, and the boulder was replaced, leaving no sign of any possible disturbance.

* * *

**A/N Whew, that was a lot of writing(and in a short amount of time but I'm on a role). RIP Autumn and Lindon.**

**So Autumn has been a character that I struggled with. I don't know what it was about her, but every time her point of view came up, I found myself using the backspace five times more than usual. So naturally, I gave her a story line that was five times more involved than everybody else's (in the form of Sterling). I'm incredibly proud of how she turned out though. She was a lot of people's favorite tribute, and I think she's one of my biggest successes in this story. But you know, she wasn't the winner that I picked out, so she had to die eventually. It happened to be her time.**

**Lindon... Oh Lindon. So Lindon was kind of like my go-to murder guy. There were a few times where I knew that somebody specific needed to die, but I didn't know who would kill them. I'd sit there like "nope, Totem's with Velt right then... and then the careers are on the other side of the arena... oh wait there's Lindon! Lindon is always free! Horay!" And it fit his story arc perfectly because you know, he really was a serial killer in disguise. I had a great time writing him. It wouldn't have been realistic for him to win though because the Gamemakers don't like having lunatics as victors (reference to Titus the cannibal). So, if he got any further, he probably would have been killed by one of the things I mentioned in that last paragraph there (I'm not going into any more detail as not to spoil the next chapter). But then this was the chapter that I was going to kill Autumn in, and she needed a killer. And like I said, Lindon is just always free. **

**So anyway. You'll know the victor in two chapters. I'm sort of writing at a ridiculous pace right now because I'm very excited about the ending, so yeah. The end is near. Like in the next week or two near. **

**So yeah, until next time.**


	36. Bravery

Velt Ganger (D9)

* * *

Velt jumped awake. The mountain, it was shaking. He had never been in an earthquake before, but he had seen plenty of them on the television screen. Gamemakers liked earthquakes. Throwing his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his spear, Velt sprinted outside. The cold air felt awful compared to the toasty luke warm temperature of his cave. He had barely been outside since he had found his cave. There had been no reason to.

Chips of rock were sliding down the mountain as Velt sprinted towards the woods. Behind him, he could hear his cave collapsing. Velt started to run faster. Once inside the safety of the woods, Velt picked the tallest tree and began to climb. It was slow going, with his pack and a spear on one hand, but he managed. His climbing ability had saved his life on more than one occasion since the Games started. It would not fail him now.

As he reached the top of the tree, Velt looked back towards the mountain, his breaths coming in quick accelerated intervals. The sight he found was breath taking. A huge wall of snow was tumbling down the mountain, eating up everything in its path. Velt felt the panic rising in his chest as he watched it fall. The tree he had picked was still close to the base of the mountain. He wasn't sure that he was far enough away to clear this new danger.

Thinking quick, Velt looked up towards the tip of the tree and began to climb more. There was another branch, just a few feet past the last leaf on his tree, that he might just be able to reach. With one daring leap, he jumped upwards, grabbing onto the branch, and pulling himself even higher. Once he was securely on the new tree, he began to climb more, until he could see out over the canopy of half of the forest.

That was when the snow hit. The avalanche crashed into the ground. It filled the arena with a thunderous rumbling noise, louder than the churning of stormy ocean waves during a hurricane. The sheer power of the snow's impact into the ground was enough to send a gust of air swaying through the branches of the forest. Velt felt his tree creak as it too flexed backwards. The snow kept coming, eating up the space to the forest, and engulfing the first few trees.

Velt held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for it to swallow him up too. Five minutes passed before he dared to look again. The avalanche had ended, stopping just four or five trees before his. Looking at the ground, he could see some of the snow had began to climb up the base of the trunk, but it hadn't reached him. He had made it out alive.

Velt let out a sigh of relief. He would have to add the avalanche to his growing list of near death encounters he had experienced since entering the arena.

Suddenly an inhuman bellow filled the air. Some kind of animal's roar filled the entire arena, bouncing off the sky and echoing in the trees. Velt's blood went cold. It was the final five, he knew that the Capitol would be sending something for them soon. Especially since it had been a day since any action had happened. The last death had been Lindon, his face showed up in the sky earlier that night. Velt stared up the mountain, wondering what to do. His first instinct was to run. It was dark outside though, and he hadn't gotten much sleep. He didn't even know where this thing was.

Velt frowned, deep in thought. He finally decided that he should stay put. The only thing left that he could be sure about was that at this exact moment he was safe. Now that Lindon was dead, he wasn't quite as worried about being ambushed by another tribute in the dead of the night. Nestling into a groove in the tree, Velt felt his eyes grow heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

His dreams were vague and hazy. Random shapes and colors travelled through his line of sight. Sometimes somebody familiar would pop up, whether it be one of his siblings, Totem, or Belle. None of the images startled or scared him; although, none of them instilled that feeling of homey safeness. It was like he was looking though a sheet of glass. Everything was just out of reach.

When he woke up several hours later, Velt felt more refreshed than he had in ages. It was the first night he'd gone without a single nightmare. When he awoke, the sun was peaking through the clouds again, shining onto his face. It appeared the Gamemakers were done with the storms for the moment. Thank goodness.

Velt climbed down from his tree onto the ground, and ate his meager breakfast. He was running out of supplies, but hopefully that wouldn't matter. His pack just had to last until the Games ended. That meant stretching out his last three pieces of jerky, a half a can of peaches, and two crackers for at least another day or two. Velt thought back to Totem's and his raid on the Cornucopia. If he hadn't picked up these extra supplies, he'd have died from starvation days ago.

When he finished his breakfast, he sat around lazily for another half an hour. Finally, he decided that he had to get moving. It wasn't safe to hang around in one spot for too long anymore.

"Which way, left or right?" he asked himself. For another moment he just looked around, surveying the area. "Right," he decided aloud.

Trotting off, Velt walked at a leisurely pace. For the first time, he felt like he truly had nothing to do. He wasn't walking to a specific place; he didn't have any specific survival needs that had to be attended to; and there was nobody with him to do something with. It wasn't a bad feeling though. He was just relaxed. In his head he went over the competition again. Both from Two, boy from Eight, boy from Ten.

It looked good for the outer districts this year. It was rare for the final five to have a minority of careers. Velt wondered what people back at home thought about him right around now. To the community of Nine, he had always been somebody to be pitied- that kid with the abusive father. They'd never seen him be strong or brave. He bet they were all pretty surprised right around now. He wondered if his father was happy that he was still alive. Had he made the old drunk proud?

He doubted it. His father hated his guts.

Soon the sun was high in the sky, and Velt could feel his jacket sticking to his back. The arena was funny in that way. It was too cold outside to take off any layers, but if you were really moving during the hotter hours of the day, you could still sweat.

Suddenly the hug roar bellowed through the arena again, just like it had the previous night. Velt held his breath and looked around. For a second, silence filled the air. Then the new steady creaking of a tree gradually falling reached his ears. Then another creak. Then another.

Velt squinted into the distance. Through the maze of trunks, something big and white was moving. He forced himself to keep walking. Slowly he wrapped around, walking in a wide circle around the beast. When he was sure he was behind it, he found a tall tree, and hoisted himself to the top.

From there he got a better view of the beast, and what he saw terrified the boy.

The beast was about as tall as one of the smaller trees, and its entire body was covered in a furry white coat. It was humanoid, with a gorilla-like posture. Velt couldn't see its face from the angle he was at, but he was sure it was ugly. The thing was currently tearing a path through the forest for itself as it reached forwards with its giant meaty hands and tore trees straight from their roots, and tossed them aside. Behind it, a trail of colossal foot prints led into the distance.

Velt held his breath as the thing gradually made its way through the forest. Velt made sure to stay exceptionally still. He was horrified that the thing might hear him. It moved obnoxiously slow though. Velt was waiting for it to move on, so that it was out of ear shot. The problem was that tearing up the forest was a slow going job. Velt felt his limbs starting to shake as the effort of standing still. Velt felt his stomach fall, and at that moment he knew it wouldn't be long until...

_Snap_

The branch his left foot was on broke, and Velt lost his balance. He cried out as he tumbled towards the earth, stray branches scraping his body as he did so. The final impact on the ground wasn't that bad. A layer of fresh snow, and the sleeping bag in his back pack cushioned him enough that the worst he suffered from on impact was the shock of having the wind knocked out of him.

His hands started to quake as he looked up. The mutt had turned, it's great white head stared at him. It had beady silver eyes and four huge fangs that sat on the outside of his lips. When it made eye contact with Velt, another horrible growl ripped through its throat. Velt screamed.

Scrambling to his feet, Velt shed his pack and began to sprint as fast as he could towards the mountain with his spear in hand. The ground shook as the mutt chased after him. It wasn't taking the time to move the trees out of its way anymore. Instead it was just thrashing its limbs out as it ran, cracking trunks in half to open up a path for himself. Velt felt his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't climb up a tree to get away from the beast. It would just knock a tree down. A cave would help, but the avalanche had covered all of them in a layer of thick snow.

Velt was either going to have to outrun the thing, or die.

It was clear almost right away that it wasn't going to be that easy. The mutt moved slowly, but it didn't matter. One of its strides would match twenty of Velt's.

The wind rippled through Velt's hair, whooshing past his ears. It made his eyes start to tear up. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, running down his temple before being whooshed backwards with the wind. Around him the forest began to thin slightly. He was passing from the animal side of the forest into the plant side. In a moment of panic, he realized that the snow was starting to get deeper, slowing him down. He looked over his shoulder.

The monster was gaining on him. He had managed to put a little bit of space between himself and the mutt, but it was quickly closing on him in the deep snow. Velt started to pick up his pace. Instead of running conventionally, he began to leap savagely forwards, trying to cover as much distance with each step as possible. His legs burned with exertion. Beside of him one of the trunks that the mutt had knocked over fell just inches away from him.

It was going to catch him. It was going to catch him right now.

A wave of madness swept over him. Planting his foot firmly on the ground, he pivoted, facing the beast. With a warrior-like cry, he dashed forwards. The beast wasn't prepared for it. It swiped down at the spot he had just been standing, going for the death-blow, but it missed. Velt dashed right in between the beast's legs, holding his spear out to the side as he did so. The mutt roared as the point of his spear cut a shallow gash in its ankle. It was angry now.

Velt kept running, not bothering to look back. He knew it was chasing him again by the way the ground shook as it walked. Banking right suddenly, Velt changed up his direction. He wasn't sure where he was anymore, but going back the way he came wasn't going to be productive.

A quarter-mile ahead of him, Roland and Raven were sitting around a small fire, eating a bag of jerky. Roland's fingers twitched as he fiddled with his rope, like always. The two hadn't been speaking that much to each other anymore. Raven stared at his feet with his shoulder's sagged. His outburst the other day had passed, and his rebellious spirit had gone with it. Now he simply felt empty and sad. He was ready for this all to be over.

Velt saw them coming up in the clearing ahead of him and didn't even care. The beast was catching up again, and he needed to get away. Hopefully these two tributes were like Totem and wouldn't kill him. He sprinted forwards, jumping right over their fire, and kept going.

Raven and Roland both jumped to their feet as the small boy tore through their little camp sight. Roland looked at his retreating figure, trying to decide whether to chase him or not. Raven knew better. The only reason people ran like that was when they were running from something. Turning around, he looked in the direction that the thing came from. His jaw dropped when he saw the mutt.

"Roland," he cried out, grabbing his sword. His ally turned, his face turning white when he saw the beast.

"They don't make cows that big back at home," Roland muttered as he began to twirl his lasso. They both knew that running the way Velt was wasn't an option for them. Or at least it wasn't an option for Raven, who still felt like hell from jumping off the cliff two days ago.

The two boys stood bravely as the thing barged into their clearing. It was still looking ahead at Velt, but when Raven brandished his sword, digging it into its bad leg, it found new targets. It howled out as it kicked at Raven, knocking him backwards. The boy from Eight gritted his teeth in pain as his broken arm took the brunt of the blow. The beast raised its great paw, ready to deliver the death-blow.

Its arm began to swing forwards, but about mid way to the ground, something snapped it backwards. Roland dug his heels into the ground as his lasso tightened around its arm. He'd never tangled his rope around something so strong. In one motion, the beast took his free paw and cut through the rope with his nail. Roland fell backwards into the snow. Now the beast was focused on him.

Raven wasn't going to leave him to die though. Scrambling forwards, he leaped up into the air, digging his sword into the beast's lower back. The blade cut downwards as Raven pulled it back to the ground with him. When he landed, he dug the blade again into its thigh. It kicked wildly, but this time Raven was prepared and he jumped backwards, putting some distance in between himself and the mutt's thrashing.

Velt heard the mutt roar from a little ways off, and turned around, panting. He saw that it had stopped to fight the other two tributes as it wasn't following him anymore. He was safe. He should feel safe now. But he didn't. A feeling of guilty dread fell over him. Those two tributes never tried to hurt him the way that other girl he killed did. If they died fighting the mutt because of him, he wouldn't be able to get it off his conscience. Not ever.

He bit his lip as he started to run back. He had to help them. It was something wasn't worth living if he had to live with those two older boy's lives on his conscience. If they tried to kill him afterwards, then he'd stick them both himself. But they would have to try and hurt him first. That was the way things were supposed to work.

Roland and Raven were fighting a losing battle. Roland's rope wasn't an effective weapon, and Raven couldn't reach high enough to kill it. He might have been able to scale a tree to reach the mutt's head, but his arm prevented him from doing so.

The mutt currently was towering over Raven, its silvery eyes turning bloodshot with rage. Its swiped at the boy, trying to get a solid blow. Raven's forehead was coated in sweat as he batted the attacks away with his sword. He sliced cut after cut into the beast's hands. Raven was just waiting for it to throw both its hands at him. Then he'd be a goner.

Roland dug into the snow until the ground was uncovered. "Hurry up," Raven cried as he ducked under another attack.

"I'm trying," Roland shouted back. Then he found what he was looking for: rocks. "Hey big foot, over here." He threw the rocks as hard as he could at its head. They found their targets, bouncing off it harmlessly. It lifted its back leg up and scratched at the back of its head like a dog. Turning, it saw Roland flinging the rocks, and it curled its lip in annoyance.

Velt came up upon the fight as it plucked up Roland off the ground and carried him close to its face. Roland's hair blew back as the thing breathed in his face. Velt knew what he had to do. He sprinted forwards and launched himself off the ground. Grabbing onto the mutt's fur, he began to climb. Immediately, it dropped Roland.

The boys from Ten and Eight stared, completely shocked as the youngest competitor in the Game bravely climbed up the mutt's back, a look of determination on his small face. The mutt immediately started flailing as it tried to shake Velt off, but the boy held fast. He screamed loudly as he dug his boots into the beast's back, searching for a foothold. Inch by inch, he pulled himself higher, making his way slowly to the mutt's head.

When he made it to its neck, it suddenly began to shake violently in a last ditch effort to throw him off. He knew it was now or never. Grabbing his spear, he plunged it into the mutt's spine. A thick murky red goo oozed from the wound as the mutt stopped thrashing. With an incredulous grin, Velt started to laugh. He had won. He killed the big mutt.

That was when the beast began to fall. It had been practically standing upright on its hind legs when Velt killed it, and so its center of gravity no longer leaned forwards. Velt felt himself slipping back as the mutt's body started to go down. With a terrified cry, he tumbled to the ground. For a second, there was an awful grace period where the only sound that echoed through the woods were the sound of Velt's cries as the mutt fell over him. Then the corpse hit the ground, and everything went silent. There was no more screaming, no more ferocious roaring, not even a cannon.

"Roland," Raven suddenly screeched. "Roland he's still alive." Raven rushed forwards to the corpse and started to push it with all of his might. He took his good arm and he squatted down and he heaved upwards. It didn't budge. Either the weight was too heavy or Raven was just simply too injured, but he couldn't even get its hand to lift off the ground. "Roland help me."

Roland suddenly snapped out of his daze. "Maybe we shouldn't," he said quietly, feeling guilty before the words even left his mouth. "I mean. It's us or him Raven. We can't all win."

"Screw the freaking Capitol's rules," Raven bellowed. "That kid just saved our lives."

Roland flinched at his friend, but he obeyed, running over and trying to move the animal himself. Together they managed to roll its shoulder forwards slightly, but it wasn't enough. Velt was still stuck underneath it, suffocating.

_Boom._

And then he wasn't suffocating anymore. He was simply dead.

Raven fell backwards into the snow, his chest rising and falling in exhaustion. Heavy bags had formed underneath his eyes, and his usual vibrant life had been sapped from him. The reaped boy who had smiled and waved at the Capitol crowd the night of the Chariot rides didn't exist anymore. Roland suddenly felt a wave of sadness roll over him. The Games had killed even Raven's hope in humanity. He sighed. If it could do that to Raven of all people, the rest of them were goners.

* * *

**A/N RIP Velt.**

**I don't think anybody ever thought Velt would have a chance. He was never anybody's favorite tribute (in my initial two character polls he didn't get one vote), and he's twelve. Really, you'd think I'd have killed him off a long time ago. Well, I really liked Velt. His reaping segment is one of the sections I'm most proud of in this story. He was never the most original character (young kid with an abusive father), but I saw a lot of potential for a good story line in him. Basically when it comes down to it, he placed fifth 'cause I liked him. That's also why I pretty much dedicated an entire chapter to him here. He was never in consideration for the victor though. Its just the way things go with tributes this young. **

**So yeah. I can't believe I'm saying this. But you'll know the victor next chapter. Then afterwards I'll do an epilogue chapter. Then I'll be switching the story's status to complete... That felt weird to say. Don't worry though, if you haven't read so on my profile already. I will be doing a sequel. So yeah. That will be happening soon. **

**In the meantime, we have our final four: Roland, Raven, Chateaux, and Kegan. **

**I'm going to have some fun writing the next chapter. A lot of fun.**

**Until next time.**


	37. Fading to Darkness

Kegan Caption (D2), Chateaux Masona (D2), Raven Textan (D8), and Roland Bucks (D10)

* * *

The anthem blared at full volume, its musical tunes filling the arena. Velt Ganger's face appeared in the sky, a naive smile lighting it up, as if he was back home again. Kegan and Chateaux watched him from the Cornucopia with blank expressions. Chateaux felt her heart fall a little in disappointment. So the kid had finally died. She supposed it was going to happen eventually, but still, she had secretly hoped he might win, that is, if she were to die.

Of course, both of them knew exactly what his death meant. They were in the final four. The only other two tributes left were Raven Textan and Roland Bucks.

It would be over soon.

"I assume you are going to insist that I take first watch," Kegan said, rather moodily.

Chateaux shook her head, her expression still solemn. "Let's go hunting," she said. Her voice was subdued. The excitement at the kill that had coursed through her body like a fire was gone. She sounded like a child who was being forced to do an unwanted chore.

"Don't be dim-witted. There are only two of them out there. We'll never find them," Kegan shook his head.

"We won't have to find them dunder brain," Chateaux said. "They'll lead us to them. we've been out here for what? Nine, ten days now? They know just as well as we do. These Games are practically over. Now is as good a time as any for a finale."

"As you wish your royal majesty," Kegan muttered under his breath. Chateaux's eyes didn't flare up in annoyance the way they usually did when he said things like that. She simply pretended to ignore him. It was odd actually. She had been like that for two days now. Ever since Autumn had gone and the two of them had stuck Lindon through. Kegan had thought several times to inquire what was wrong with her. It didn't matter though. He didn't care about her. He couldn't.

With that the two of them headed into the woods.

* * *

Roland and Raven sat around their empty fire pit silently. Raven had his eyes closed as he began to doze off. He didn't complain about it, but Roland knew. The boy was completely exhausted. Every time he moved, some kind of ache or pain shot through him. His bad arm had started to throb after the fight with the giant mutt, and it hadn't stopped since. He wasn't dying, but he definitely wasn't in good shape.

Roland stared at Raven miserably. He knew what came next. One of them was going to have to die, and Roland wasn't entirely sure who he wanted it to be. He just prayed that they wouldn't have to make that decision. If they were smart, they would have split up days ago, right after Lena died. He couldn't do it though. Raven had been so hurt. Leaving him in that condition would have felt like betrayal. Now they were in the final four together, and Roland could only imagine the horror that would come if they were the last two standing. He didn't know what he would do. Would he kill Raven? Would he kill himself? That's what he thought was on Raven's mind. The boy from Eight had made his thoughts on winning clear when he stayed behind to distract the careers. He never intended on making it out of the arena alive, and Roland doubted that his plans had changed since then.

There would be no fight between the two boys.

Sighing, Roland sank into his seat, trying to find some warmth. If he closed his eyes, he could just taste the sun in District Ten, shining down on him as warmth radiated through his body. It had been so long since he had been warm. He questioned whether he even truly remembered the feeling.

"Roland?" Raven muttered sleepily.

"Mmm," Roland responded.

"I want you to know that you're the closest thing to a brother I've ever had," he mumbled.

Roland looked up at Raven, startled. He knew about his friend's troubled family life. His two older brothers, Jax and Yeuton, apparently hated the guy's guts. But Raven talked about them like they were his idols. He blamed himself for the way things were screwed up in his family. Coming from him, that was one of the biggest compliments a guy could get.

"You too," Roland muttered back. "You too.

* * *

Kegan and Chateaux walked side by side, not talking to each other. They were headed towards the animal end of the forest. The mountain had been coated by some sort of avalanche the other day, and was no longer a viable place to hide. That meant their enemies were somewhere in the surrounding forest. They were just doing some guess-work with where they might find them.

Kegan had recommended this route of travel actually. To be honest, he had no expectation that Raven and Roland would be hiding out here. If he were them, he'd be on the other side of the arena with the plants. That's where the most optimal food sources were. He picked the animal side though for a reason. It was the half where the gamemakers had the most prominent presence in the arena with all of the tiny creatures that lurked in the shadows. If they were going to be driven towards the other two tributes, that would be a good place to find a good predator to do the job. He knew it was a dangerous risk to take, but he had decided it was worth it. As long as it worked that is.

"If you go home, what's the first thing you're going to do?" Chateaux asked suddenly.

Kegan's eyes flickered over to her incredulously. Was she being civil with him or was this just another ploy for some kind of hurtful dig? He wasn't sure. "I'm going to go see my sister of course," he decided to answer. "I believe I owe her an apology."

Chateaux smirked. "What for?"

"My arrogance," he answered simply. He didn't have to elaborate. She knew he was talking about the Games. They had both been arrogant, assuming they would win. They didn't know the competition back then- the amount of people- good people- that would have to die for them to live.

"I'm going to go back and visit an old friend of mine," Chateaux answered. "Her name is Zia. I think I owe her an apology for a lot more than just arrogance." She laughed as if she were making some kind of joke, but it went over Kegan's head.

Suddenly the ground began to rumble, and both of them stopped, drawing out their weapons. About fifteen feet ahead of them, a tree was ripped from its roots and thrown backwards. They both gaped as a huge snowy white gorilla monster looked down at them. Its thick ugly grey lips pulled at the corners. Kegan felt his stomach twist as he realized what it was doing: the mutt was smiling.

"Run," Chateaux demanded, grabbing his arm. They turned, flying in the opposite direction. Its thunderous foot steps thumped after them. Unlike Velt who had ran from the mutt with extreme difficulty earlier that day, the two careers had no problem distancing themselves from the thing. It wasn't that this second beast was slower than the first, and although the two careers were in much better shape than the deceased District Nine tribute, it wasn't that they were better runners either. In fact, Kegan was a decidedly poor athlete, and Chateaux was easily pulling ahead of him. It was as if the mutt had no intention of killing them. No, it was meant simply to give them a push in the right direction.

Kegan and Chateaux both knew this as they ran. Their eyes were glued on the horizon, both looking for the same thing. The woods shifted again and then they were no longer in the animal side of the forest, but the plant side. Kegan nodded to himself. His plan had worked.

* * *

Roland heard them before he saw them. The familiar howl echoed through the woods, making the hairs stand up on his arm. "Raven," he cried urgently, shaking his ally awake. "Get up. There's another one. Get up."

Raven jerked awake, blinking a few times sleepily. Another roar shook the forest. That woke him up. Raven leaped to his feet, his tired eyes searching rabidly around for the threat as he grabbed his sword. "Where is it?" he asked gravely.

"Dunno," Roland grunted as he tied a lasso into the little length of remaining rope he had left. "No chance you're running right?"

Raven swallowed hard, his expression bitter and devoid of hope. "Nope. I'm too tired to run," he said. His eyes flickered upwards with urgency. "You run. You can get away. I'm sure I'm the one the Gamemakers want dead, not you."

Roland opened his mouth and closed it again. "I can't leave you again. Not like last time. Look how far that got us. Lena's dead and you look like you got beat up and jumped off a cliff," Roland said.

Raven's mouth twitched into a small smile at the joke. "Think about yourself Roland, not me," he mumbled.

Roland never got the chance to respond. Raven's eyes suddenly turned wild. "Duck," he demanded in a booming voice. Roland obeyed without a second thought. A long blade whooshed over his head, taking with it a few locks of hair. Roland spun around to find Chateaux standing far too close behind him, going in for another slice. He fell backwards into the snow as the blade skimmed his chest. She pulled her sword back up, ready to go in for the final death blow.

Raven lunged forwards, swinging his sword out and knocking it against hers. Again she missed Roland, this time, digging her blade into the snow, right beside his head. She looked up at Raven, gritting her teeth. He jabbed his blade forwards, taking advantage of her moment of vulnerability as she tried to pull her weapon out of the ground. She was a career though, and careers were never truly off guard. Abandoning her sword in the ground, she leaped backwards. Raven missed by a longshot.

Kegan appeared out of the woods, panting and raised his knives, crouching defensively.

"What took you so long slow poke," Chateaux frowned at him.

"Shut up," he grumbled back.

"Where's the mutt," Chateaux grunted back.

"Stopped chasing a minute ago," Kegan answered. They ended the brief exchange there as they had some fighting to do.

Raven flew forwards as Roland stood up, pulling her sword out of the ground and throwing it backwards out of everybody's reach. Chateaux gaped at him. Did he really just pick a piece of rope over a long sword as a weapon?

Kegan met Raven midway, parrying his attacks with his knives. Seeing the injured boy with a sword had shocked him. Last time the two had seen each other, Raven had been plunging off a cliff, quite weaponless. He hadn't taken it from the Cornucopia, as they didn't have any unaccounted weapons when Chateaux and he had left just a half an hour ago. So then, where'd it come from? Not that it mattered though. This was the end. If he won, he'd know soon enough.

Chateaux brought her fists up in front of her face, positioning herself into a boxer stance, as she eyed Roland. She had no other weapons on her, but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous. She'd had her fair share of close combat training. The problem began when Roland began to twirl his lasso above his head. She didn't want to get too close to him. If she didn't though, she had no way of fighting.

"Kegan give me one of your knives," Chateaux demanded as Roland threw his lasso at her. She dived to the side, causing Roland to miss.

"I'm busy," Kegan grunted back to her. He was still on the defensive. Fight smart, that was his mantra. Raven fought him like a savage, battering him over and over again with his sword. On the outside, Kegan probably looked like he was losing, but he knew better. Raven would tire out soon enough. Then he would get sloppy. That would be when Kegan would strike.

Chateaux cursed rather loudly at her District partner as she rushed Roland. He hadn't had time to gather his lasso back, and Chateaux wasn't going to waste an opportunity. She sprinted forwards, and quickly sunk her fist into his stomach. Roland cried out as he stumbled backwards. The wind completely knocked out of him.

Raven suddenly broke off from Kegan and wheeled around towards Chateaux. He slashed out, grazing her cheek, before she could further her attack on Roland. "Throw your knife Kegan," Chateaux demanded as she started to play a dodging game.

Kegan shook his head as he ran over to help. "Dumb fighting tactics," he responded. "I'm not giving them another weapon."

While Roland clutched his gut on the ground, Kegan and Chateaux both faced the bigger threat- Raven.

Kegan sprinted over, stabbing outwards at the boy, halting his attack on Chateaux. Quickly Raven spun, knocking away the jab. With his other hand, Kegan swung the hilt of his knife around, knocking Raven in the jaw. Raven stumbled back, wiping his now bloodied lip on his sleeve. His eyes glowed with hatred at the two careers. To him, they were the epitome of Captiol influence, the pinnacle showing of Snow's absolute power. It never crossed his mind that they might even be human. No, as far as he cared, they were the reason that the Games existed in the first place, the reason so many of his friends were dead.

"Knife now Kegan," Chateaux commanded again. This time he obeyed, handing his second weapon over to her reluctantly.

Then they both turned back to Raven. Together they put him on the defensive. They slashed and stabbed with their short weapons like two wolves closing in around a wild deer. Raven could only keep up with them for so long. He could feel his limbs protesting his movements, and he ached to use his left arm, only to find that any attempt to move it resulted in a searing pain. His eyelids felt heavy, and his good hand was beginning to shake. His sword had never felt so heavy.

Chateaux felt the sweat dripping down her brow as she landed her first blow, cutting into Raven's forearm. She could feel the guilt already welling in her stomach. There was a time when she reveled in just the thought of slitting this boy's throat. Times had changed though. Now that her moment had finally come, it didn't feel half as great as she had thought it would.

Raven suddenly felt a tree thud against his back. There was nowhere left to run.

Kegan took that as his chance. Diving forwards, he jammed the hilt of his knife into the bone of Raven's thumb. With a cry of pain, he dropped the sword. Chateaux was upon him as quick as a snake. She thrusted her knife forwards, pressing the blade into the soft skin of his neck. She knew that Kegan was expecting her to take the kill for herself, he had no intention of intervening, and she also knew that the Capitol wanted a show. She didn't want to torture this boy alive though.

Then a thought crossed her mind.

Without moving the blade from Raven's neck, she turned to Kegan. "I believe I owe you a kill," she said.

Kegan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Chateaux had never been one to share. Still, he had to think of himself; it would be unwise to deny her right now. The Capitol would think he was soft.

"Um, okay," he muttered, drawing his own knife upwards. Chateaux grinned at him as she stepped back. It was only then that she thought to turn back, and go handle Roland, the other enemy. He had been rolling around on the ground the last time she had seen him. Somehow, he had slipped both of her and Kegan's minds as they got caught up in the heat of their battle with Raven.

To her horror, she found that he had recovered. His face was twisted as he clenched his teeth together and spun the lasso above his head. His gaze was locked on Kegan as the boy brought back his knife, preparing to end Raven's life.

Chateaux reacted on instinct. "Kegan look out," she screeched as Roland let his lasso fly. Kegan looked over at her confused, but she had already gone into motion. She slammed into him, shoving her District partner violently to the ground, out of the way. In the process, of course, she had moved to where he had been standing. She dropped her knife raising her hands up towards her throat.

Roland pulled hard. In the blink of an eye, his lasso tightened around Chateaux's throat. A sickening crack echoed through the air as her neck snapped like a flimsy twig.

_Boom._

Kegan watched in horror from the ground as he watched her die. The sound of her neck breaking echoed in his ears, resonating in his soul. Chateaux- the girl who had bullied him since he was seven years old, who had beat him up time and time again in the training room, who just earlier that day had been boasting about how fun it would be to kill him- had just saved his life. In that moment, he could feel something within him snap, just like Chateaux's neck.

"No," the word came out in a hushed mumble. "No," he said it again louder. He suddenly jumped to his feet. "Chateaux you fool!" he roared. His eyes turned to Roland as anger confusion and hatred churned like a monster within his stomach. In one swift motion he wheeled his arm back and flung his knife at Chateaux's killer. It sunk squarely between the boy's eyes. Killing him instantaneously.

_Boom._

And then there were two.

Raven could do nothing as he watched his final ally die. He knew his friend was a goner the moment he saw the look on Kegan's face as he comprehended Chateaux's death. Hell hath no fury like a wronged career. The grief welled up inside of his heart, and flowed through the rest of his body, running like a waterfall. He could hear his own heart beat thumping inside his eardrums. Everyone he had gathered in the beginning were all dead now. The only two options left for victor was either him or a career from Two. In his heart, he knew he had already failed.

Kegan's breath came in unnaturally short intervals as he watched Roland's body crumple. Somehow, it didn't seem like it was enough. Wheeling around, he glared at Raven, livid anger bubbling in his chest. Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he grabbed the other boy by the collar and threw him to the ground. Like a barbarian, he leaped on top of him, pressing his knee into Raven's broke arm.

Raven howled in pain, but made no attempt to resist. He was finished. He was finished with all of it.

"She died for me," Kegan screamed, as he slammed his fist into Raven's temple. "We hate each other. She was never supposed to die for me." He punched Raven again, feeling the other boy's blood wet his knuckles. Then a third time, his fist came down. Kegan could feel his glasses slip off his nose as he stared down at Raven. His vision immediately went blurry, making the arena turn into one big ambiguous blob- a solid sheet of white, mangled with patches of scarlet red. The other boy had his eyes pressed shut as he awaited death.

"Why'd she do that?" Kegan kept going as he suddenly began to escalate the beating. "Why?"

He didn't stop punching. Even after the cannon sounded, and his hands were no longer meeting smooth skin, but the bloodied sharp fragments of a broken skull. Tears flowed down his face freely. Chateaux's hate had been the one thing he had been sure of. It was as sound as the most concrete scientific theory. And he had always been okay with it. As long as she hated him back, his irrational loathing of not only that girl, but of all of the villains in his life was justified.

But she had saved him. Chateaux of all people. It was as if the very foundations of his scientific brain no longer existed because all that was left was the irreversible grotesque regret of all of the wrongs of his unbearably human nature.

Kegan fell backwards, off of Raven's body and into the snow. He laid there with no intention of moving as uncontrollable sobs raked through his body. Why? Why had she done it?

Over the loudspeakers, a voice echoed through the arena. "Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games- Kegan Capiton!"

Something mechanical touched his hand as something began to lift him into a hovercraft. He was rising upwards, he thought to himself. That's supposed to be the universal symbol of sainthood and victory. He didn't feel like a victor though. No, instead he felt everything that he ever thought he knew, fading away, into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N: WARNING LONG AUTHORS NOTE**

**So there you have it. Kegan is your victor. Now before I get into the rest of the note, I'm going to tell you right now that there will be one last epilogue chapter after this. On the same day that I post the last chapter of Fading to Darkness, I'm going to post the first chapter of its sequel, Finding the Light. I'll start taking submissions (one character per person) then, but I'm not going to officially accept anybody right away. Exactly a week after the first chapter is posted, I will make some decisions, and post the tribute list somewhere (either in the form of chapter 2 or maybe just on my profile). If I don't have all the spots filled at that point, I'll open up the pool more and allow readers to each submit a second character. There will be no reserving spots, but I also won't accept any tributes officially until the first list is posted. That will give everybody a week to get in a character without worrying about all the spots filling up. **

**Alright, onto the rest of it. RIP, Chateaux, Roland, and Raven.**

**Raven: Never, not once, through the entire story, did I ever consider him as a possible victor. He was a strong, charismatic, and an excellently thought out tribute, and I loved him. But I said in the very first chapter, these Games would not be memorable in the Capitol's mind. Having him win would be like taking a flame and dumping it into a barrel of hay. Heads would be rolling. All the same, he was always meant to come in second. It was just the most interesting way for things to happen, as I always thought he was one of the most interesting characters that I received. I actually got a flaming guest review about midway through training that called me a very interesting name and said something along the lines of 'well obviously Raven is going to win'. That flame completely made my day because Raven never had a chance. I think I had everybody fooled with him at some point or another. (yeah, haha, jokes on you anonymous guest flamer)**

**Roland: For a long time, I had considered letting him win. I had initially planned to have one of Raven's allies bring home the victory. That way it wouldn't have set the mockingjay rebellion into action ten years prematurely, but Raven could have had the peace of mind that he had been successful in making a career not win. The problem was really poor planning with that. I organized all of the deaths about half way through training, after I had sort of grouped all of the alliances together. At that point I sort of realized that nobody that was with Raven sort of fit the victor's profile. While I love Roland, he just wasn't quite dynamic enough for me to justify giving him the victory. **

**Chateaux: So that left Chateaux and Kegan, the two careers from District Two. It would make complete sense for one of them to win. First off, they are careers, and the underdogs win the SYOT's way too much. Second, having one of them win would be "forgettable" on the grand scheme of things because they'd be just another career victory. When I got Chateaux's profile, her creator suggested that Chateaux sort of break away from the career pack because she would have this great moral epiphany about the Games. I was fascinated with the idea of her channeling this sort of epiphany through her other careers. I think it was infinitely more interesting to have her show her humanity without veering too far off the path she was raised on. She basically died because I loved the idea of what she was dying for. **

**Kegan. So yeah. I love Kegan. I love him so much. He was so freaking original- the genius career from District 2. I am probably the biggest nerd in the world. I love math and science and stuff like that, and really I thought Kegan was just so relatable in that way. That is probably the biggest reason why I chose him to win- because nerds are awesome. On top of that though, like I said before, his victory would be a normal occurrence for the Capitol, and therefore nothing to rant about for the next twenty years. And again, I did sort of want a career to win this as they don't often win SYOT's At the same time, he was dynamic enough to go through that horrifying experience of becoming a victor, and I knew exactly the way it would change him. He will be a mentor in my next story, and of course, I still have the epilogue to show you guys what happens in the aftermath of his games. Big thanks to jshrn for submitting him.**

**So yeah, until next time (with next time being the epilogue)**


	38. Epilouge

Kegan Capiton, District Two Victor

* * *

Kegan's eyes fluttered open. The last thing he could remember was punching a man on the hovercraft, after that things went black. He was in a white room. The window was propped open as a fluttering breeze passed through, ruffling the golden trimmed curtains. He was in a huge king size circular bed with only a thin white sheet drapped over his body. A lamp was on in the corner, sending a warm glow through the room... Warm.

That was the first thing Kegan truly registered. For the first time in what seemed like a millenium, he felt warm. Looking down at himself, he found that he was only wearing a thin pair of boxers. His chest was completely bare, and still he felt warm. He hadn't taken off that infernal coat one time in the arena. It was too risky in such freezing temperatures. For a fleeting moment, a wave of pure joy swelled through him. Oh, how he had missed feeling warm.

Then the rest came crashing down on him. The reality of the past week ran through his heart like a dagger, and his face fell. In his mind, he saw Chateaux warning him again, felt her pushing him again, heard the snapping sound her neck had made again. _Snap. Snap. Snap. _The sound trembled through his body. He bunched the white sheet in his fist as he tried to push that awful noise away, but deep down he knew that it would stay with him forever.

"Be rational you idot," he mumbled to himself. The initial wave of emotion eventually passed, leaving a sea of empty grief in its wake. Again that haunting question why echoed around in his mind.

Reaching up to his nose, Kegan made to push his glasses higher, an old habit. To his surprise, his finger didn't meet the metal frame of his trusty spectacles. They simply brushed against the bridge of his nose, looking for something that wasn't there. His glasses were gone. That didn't make sense though. He was blind as a bat without them. Slowly he swung his feet over the bed and walked to the vanity on the far wall to stare himself in the mirror. He was almost unrecognizable.

Kegan had never seen himself without glasses on before. He couldn't see without them, therefore any attempt to look in a mirror with nothing but his eyes would have been pointless. He had contemplated getting contacts once when he was eight, so that the other kids at the Tribute Academy would stop making fun of him; however, he had decided against it. The glasses were part of his identity. They made him look scholarly. Furthermore though, they set him apart from all of his tormentors at the Academy. Sure they was often the subject of their taunts, but he had decided a long time ago that he wanted to be nothing like his peers. He was his own man- a genius in his own right.

It was rather fitting that the Capitol had taken even that away from him now that his world had been turned upside down.

He examined his new image, trying to decide what he looked like now. Without his bookish glasses, he looked unbearably normal. Yes, the person who stared back at him in the mirror was nothing more than a sad looking boy. The only abnormality in this boy was a certain empty depressed look in his dull grey eyes. He wished that this new boy would go away.

There were other changes to his appearance too, of course. His body was as seamless as a baby's. Years of scarring had vanished overnight. That he had been expecting though. It was part of the curiculum at the Academy.

"Oh, don't you just look fabulous," a voice squealed from the doorway. Kegan turned around, sluggishly looking to the speakier. His stylist, Corneilia was beaming at him as she surveyed his altered body. "Oh, you're eyes are so much brighter when they aren't hiding behind those glasses."

"Where are my glasses?" Kegan asked.

"Oh, I threw them away. We all had a big vote on whether you should keep them or not, and decided that you were much better without them, so we put you through surgery the very same day that you got crowned victor," Corneilia rambled. "You don't need them anymore, so there was no use in keeping them."

"Oh," was all Kegan could muster.

"Hut to. We have to get you dressed for your post Games interview," she snapped. rushing over to him as she opened the drawers to the vanity, revealing a deep abyss of clothing. She quickly went to work, combing his hair, handing him different shirts to try on. Apparently, his prep team had already gotten to him while he was asleep, but simply didn't have a reason to wake him. "I think that black will do. We'll keep it simple."

Thus he ended up in a warm black sweater and light tan khakis. She said it made him look sophisticated and preppy, but he didn't see it. He was never the one who had a gift for looking preppy. That talent had always belonged to Chateaux. "Aren't you so excited?" Corneilia asked. "I am. This year was just my first year, and I already have a victor. I'll be set for life now."

A long time ago, it would have bothered him that he was now stuck with possibly the ditziest women in the world as his permanent styllist; however, he was beyond caring at this point. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he plodded out of the room as she led him to the set the interview would be taking place at. His shoulders had acquired a new weighty hunch to them as he walked, and he kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of him.

Eventually they walked into some sort of back stage area. The minute he walked in, the entire room fell silent and applause broke out as the Capitolites ogled at him. Brutus, his mentor, stood among their midst. He was the only one that wasn't smiling. The meaty man strode over to him, patting him heartily on the back. "Every one back at home is really proud of you," he said seriously as his eyes scanned Kegan's face.

Of course, Kegan didn't care. He never really liked anyone at home anyway. "Ah," he muttered back.

Brutus frowned. "Kegan look at me," he said in his deep intimidating voice. Kegan obeyed wearily. "You need to understand right now your situation. What Chateaux did was a brave thing. She's being hailed a hero back at home because she brought us home the victory, even if it wasn't for herself. I know it's going to be hard on you when they all try and tell you how happy they are that she died for you, but you have to get through it."

Kegan's lip curled in disgust. "Yes, and why must I do that?" he inquired, hostility leaking into his voice. "Nobody will care if I go home and sulk for the rest of my life. Perhaps that's all I'm good at- sulking."

Brutus shook his head sadly. "If you want to be that way then fine," he said curtly. "But you were the one that gave me the impression that you didn't want to be like your dad, you know, guzzling ten tons of liquor every night before bed."

Kegan didn't respond. The words just simply weren't there. A couple of days ago, he had hated his father so completely that just the thought of the man had made his body start shaking with rage. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. If the situation ever arose, would his dad ever sacrifice himself to save Kegan? His initial answer would have been no, but then again, that is what he thought about Chateaux too.

"I'm not going to start drinking," Kegan muttered back to his mentor finally.

"Yeah that's what they all say," Brutus shot back.

On the other side of the black stage curtain, Kegan heard the audience come to life. Suddenly he felt sick.

"Go be that guy they met in your first interview. They'll be expecting him," Brutus said as he steered Kegan out towards the stage.

Caesar immediately greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake before he sat Kegan down on a plush white chair in center stage. Kegan couldn't stop staring at Caesar's hair. He hadn't thought about it before, but it made complete sense now as to why it was white. It was supposed to look like snow.

The audience took forever to stop cheering. Kegan wasn't even sure how to handle all of the attention. Should he smile? Should he wave? He probably should, but he didn't think he was capable of smiling anymore.

"So Kegan," Caesar said when they finally quieted down. "How does it feel being a victor?"

Empty, alone, awful, a million words rose to his head. "Rather surreal I suppose," was Kegan's dry answer.

"Oh, I bet it does," Caesar laughed. "You look great by the way, I love your new look."

Kegan knew he was talking about his lack of glasses. He even got the sneaking suspicion that Caesar wanted him to agree that he was better off without them. If that was the reaction they wanted though, they would be disappointed. "Yeah, my stylist thought so too," he replied. There, that way he wouldn't have to tell them all how much he hated what they had done to him.

"So I guess we should start talking about the actual Games then," Caesar went on, sensing that the glasses were a touchy topic. "I guess I'll start with the question that everyone wants to know. Tell us about your relationship with Chateaux. My heart just broke when she pushed you out of the way, you know. What was going through your mind at that moment?"

Kegan swallowed. He had known this was coming, but that didn't make him any more prepared for the question. "Um, well, I was surprised," Kegan said. The audience laughed, making Kegan blush slightly. Then in a sudden wave of feeling, he wanted nothing more for them to understand. Perhaps if he just explained his confusion to them all, somebody would know the answer to his burning question. Why?

"We've always hated each other," Kegan began, causing the audience to quiet down as they listened to him intently. "I don't think it even had a distinct starting point. It was as if we saw each other's face on that first day of school when we were seven and it was as if some sort of age old fued had resurfaced. Of course, that continued into the Games. We had a fight on the train ride here because we were incapable of holding a simple civil conversation with each other. I knew something was different about her during those last two days. After Autumn died... Then next thing I knew she was dead... She had died for me." Kegan's voice cracked with emotion as he stared madly at the crowd, waiting for somebody to make things clear for him. They were whispering among themselves, holding their hands over their hearts as they "sympathized" with him. A few were even dabbing their eyes with tissues. Nobody knew why Chateaux had done it though. He felt as lost as ever.

"Well, why don't we watch the recap now," Caesar said, sounding quite pleased with the reaction he had coaxed out of Kegan.

Kegan paled as a large screen flickered to life. The video tape started showing Chateaux and him on their chariot. Chateaux was waving excitedly to the crowd as he crossed his arms and glared at ahead. Occasionally he would glance over at her, and the scowl on his face would become more pronounced. It was obvious that there was some tension between them. It was as if Chateaux was being sickeningly peppy just to get on his nerves. Well, it had been working. Kegan could still remember the two of them backstage with Eros and Autumn. He had been so annoyed with her for flirting with the boy from District One. It had been so illogical that he just couldn't understand the point of it. A wave of guilt passed over him. Really, it hadn't done any harm.

Next, the film briefly showed his interview, in which he basically called every single one of the other tributes stupid before moving on to the bloodbath. Kegan watched as the film flashed between each death before finally resting on Kegan. He was with Chateaux again, and he watched as she stole that kill from him. He felt himself smile sadly as he watched himself complained insesently about it.

The tape skipped to the part where Roan and Skye killed each other, and lingered on the part where Kegan protested carrying the girl from Ten down the mountain. He wondered how he could have been so heartless. Obviously the dying girl had been hurt by his arguing. He was happy that Chateaux had forced him to carry her though. It had been the right thing to do.

The tape quickly skipped through the next couple of deaths. Kegan watched with surprise as Lindon killed Terra and Belle. Kegan had never seen much of the boy he and Chateaux had killed together. Not once had he ever considered that Lindon was a threat. Not even after he had killed Autumn had he thought much of Lindon, compitition-wise. It appeared to be yet another area of ignorance for Kegan, as Lindon would eventually rack up more kills than all of them.

The next scene that the film lingered on was Foster's death. Kegan felt a pang of sadness as he watched the boy freeze to death. He could still hear the boy's cheery voice in his mind as he quizzed him, trying to pick out a fact that Kegan didn't know. At least he had actually tried to save Foster, even if Eros had prevented it.

The Games went on, showing Velt and Totem's raid of the Cornucopia. Totem had been another incredibly solid competitor. At least he never had underestimated her. Then it showed Chateaux sparing Velt. Finally, Kegan got a glimpse of the girl that had sacrificed her life for him. Chateaux tried to make it look as if it was scorn for her mother that made her save that boy, but Kegan saw the compassion in her eyes. It made him feel even worse. The enigma that was Chateaux seemed to grow even more. The emotion in her eyes returned when Eros and Autumn died. The Capitol seemed to be showcasing her almost as much as they did Kegan. After all, she was the reason he had won.

Finally, the big finale came, and Kegan watched Chateaux intently as it did. He watched as she pushed him to the ground, and the lasso wrapped around her neck.

_Snap._

Kegan's muscles tensed as a wave of adrenaline rushed through him. It was as if he were hearing the sound for the very first time again, as if he had never even left the arena. In the bottom corner of the scene he could see himself cringing at the sound. He looked broken.

The film ended with him beating Raven to death. It was infinitely more gruesome now that he could actually see it happen. By the time he had fallen off of the other boy, sobbing, Raven wasn't even recognizable as a human. Fragments of skull and brain matter were scattered around the boy's body, and his fists were bleeding. The boy on the screen wasn't Kegan; it was a madman.

Finally, it ended. The crowd erupted into some kind of sick applause as Caesar pulled Kegan to his feet and made him bow like some sort of king. Then the President came onto the stage, a crown in hand. The man smiled as he placed it gently onto Kegan's head.

"We need to talk," President Snow breathed as he smiled for the cameras.

Kegan looked up, shocked. "About what," he muttered back. But the president had already turned away, waving to his people as he exited the stage. So Kegan was left there, alone and confused, being worshiped by a people that didn't even know him.

* * *

He sat in the decorated train compartment, closing his eyes and wallowing in his alone time. It was the first moment he'd had to himself since he had woken up a few days ago to find that he no longer had glasses. He couldn't wait to return home now. Then he could try and bring his life back into some sort of normalcy. And he would get to see Chastel. He needed to see her again.

Suddenly the compartment door slid open, but he didn't move to look who it was. He didn't have to act for Brutus or Albina Schetz, his escort. They both knew that he wasn't in a happy state of mind. Footsteps echoed across the room as somebody went to go pour themselves a cup of tea.

"Would you like some?" a familiar voice asked.

Kegan practically leaped to his feet as he wheeled around to find President Snow's back to him. "N-no thanks," Kegan stuttered out.

The president smiled as he walked around, taking a seat in a chair across from Kegan. "I'm sure you are anxious for your homecoming, so I will get straight to the point," Snow said seriously. "Usually, after the Games, I have to make a visit to the Victor to place a rather unsavory request. I have found that I am not in that position this year."

"Unsavory request?" Kegan muttered back confused.

"Yes, I'm sure Brutus will tell you about it later," Snow brushed off. "But as I said, I have a different request for you." Snow reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out some sort of name tag, handing it to Kegan. He took the object in his hand and looked at it blankly. His name and picture were printed on the front, and the District Two seal was on the back. Underneath his name the words Weaponry Scientist were printed in big black letters.

"I don't understand," Kegan mumbled as he stared at the card.

"In a week you will report for your first day of work at the Nut. Its not often we are fortunate enough to find such a smart young man in District Two. I would not have your skills going to waste," Snow replied.

Kegan felt his stomach roll. He would be working at the Nut, creating weapons of mass destruction. It was the job he had always wanted. It had been his dream But he didn't want it anymore. He felt sick thinking that he might make other people feel the way he did right now with his creations, like some sort of helpless victim. "I can't," he choked out. "It's a real honor sir but I can't."

Snow shook his head. "I thought you would understand. This is not optional Mr. Capiton," Snow said. "You will be reporting to work next week. I'm sure your sister will be quite proud of you."

Kegan's jaw clenched seriously, and he felt a bitterness in his mouth. He knew what the president was saying. That was a threat if he had ever heard one. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Of course I'd like to accept the job," Kegan practically spat back. He suddenly was feeling very light headed.

The president smiled, clapping Kegan on the back. "I'm glad we could reach an understanding on the matter," he said, his beady eyes monitoring Kegan carefully. With that the President rose to his feet and strode out of the compartment. Kegan was left alone again, feeling sick with himself.

* * *

The train pulled to a halt in front of District Two. A mammoth crowd was outside on the platform. A million familiar faces of people that had just a month ago treated him like dirt, were now overjoyed with excitement to be seeing him again. The wonders of what fame were at work. Brutus led Kegan to the door, putting his hands on his shoulders. Kegan took a deep breath. The door swung open, and they were met with deafening cheers.

Flowers flew through the air, landing by his feet as he stepped out of the train. People were screaming his name, shouting congratulations. A huge banner was hanging from the ceiling, reading Kegan Capiton: Victor of the 64th Hunger Games.

Kegan waded through the crowd, being carried by its momentum. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chloe, Jamine, and Sailey, Chateaux's old friends. They were cheering and calling for him to come join them. They disgusted him.

Then he saw her. Chastel was standing by the doorway of the platform. She was standing on her tippy toes and trying to push through the crowd to get a better look at her brother. Her hair had been curled and she was wearing a pretty dress that Kegan didn't recognize. His heart melted at the sight of his sister. Immediately he broke into a sprint. "Chastel," he called out desperately. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and tears started streaming down her face.

"Kegan," she squeaked. He closed the distance between them and enveloped her into a bear hug, trying to hold back the tears.

"I did it," he whispered hoarsely. "I didn't die."

Chastel let out a choked laugh. "Kegan I'm so sorry," she said through her tears. "I'm so sorry about everything." He didn't even know what she was apologizing for, but the sound of her voice was like music to his ears. A small smile stretched onto his face. He had saved Chastel from their father. If that was the only good thing that ever came from this entire experience, then he supposed he would be able to live with himself. At least to some extent.

"Come on," Chastel said, pulling on his hand. "They have a big party for you and everything."

* * *

Kegan watched as the party winded down. He was standing in the main hallway of his new home in Victor's village. They always had the homecoming party in the Victor's new house. He understood why now. If he had come home to this empty house alone that night, he might have drunk himself to death. He didn't though. No, Brutus was at the party, and he had a point to prove. He wasn't going to become an alcoholic, at least not today.

"Hi," a cheery voice chirped in his ear. Kegan looked over to see who was talking to him to find that a petite girl with flowing brown hair. He groaned to himself. Here comes yet another social-climbing hoe to come hit on him.

"Hi," he said curtly.

"This must be pretty depressing huh?" she asked, a smile on her face.

He shot her an odd long look. She was the first person that night to say something negative on the topic of Victorism so far that night. "I don't know what your talking about. Can't you see I'm elated," he said dryly.

"Really?" she said curiously. "Because you're kind of brooding."

"Who are you anyway?" Kegan snapped irritated.

"My name is Zia, Zia Carramay," she chirped back. Kegan immediately went pale as his eyes flickered over to her. Chateaux's words echoed in his mind: _I'm going to go back and visit an old friend of mine. Her name is Zia. I think I owe her an apology for a lot more than just arrogance_. He hadn't expected Chateaux's friend to be there tonight, and he most certainly didn't expect her to look so... non-threatening. Zia carried herself almost in the same way Chastel did, real girly like.

"You, you knew Chateaux," Kegan stuttered out.

"Yeah," she answered with a faint smile on her face. "I knew her."

Kegan didn't know what to say. "I- I'm sorry," he started to babble. "She- er- I... I never wanted this."

"Don't apologize. You know, I'm really happy she died for you," Zia smiled at him shaking her head. "I got to see my best friend for the first time in years."

"What?" Kegan asked, confused.

"Come on, I have a story to tell you," she said, holding out her hand to Kegan. He reached forwards and took it tentatively. For the first time, he felt like maybe he wasn't alone in his pit of empty sorrow.

* * *

**A/N The end. Wow, that feels weird to say.**

**So I guess that this is the part where I start to gush about what great readers I have. I'd like to thank everyone who has/will review this story. I really appreciate all of the support I've been getting. Really I could never have hoped for more from you guys. Really thank you so much for all of the support. You guys have made every single word I've typed totally worth it. **

**If you want to submit a character to the sequel, then the first chapter is up right now. The new story is called Finding the Light. Kegan will be a mentor. More instructions on the entire submitting process will be in the authors note of there, and even more instructions will be on my profile, along with the form. So yeah, go check that out. **

**So again, thank you so much everybody.**

**Adios.**


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